


31 Days and 32 Nights

by CrimsonSympathy



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Current Events, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Original Character(s), Quarantine, Romance, Virus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 79,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonSympathy/pseuds/CrimsonSympathy
Summary: The U.S. is under a lock-down quarantine, and Sarah finds herself stuck with an uninvited guest for the duration, but Jareth has brought more than magic into her quiet life. A war brews, and with it, the Goblin King could lose everything.WARNING: This story has elements of current events/COVID-19/the coronavirus, please read the first Author's Note for more information.
Relationships: Jareth & Sarah Williams, Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 127
Kudos: 204
Collections: Fanfics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author Note:
> 
> (This is X-posted on FF, and this is the first time I've posted on AO3, so... hello)
> 
> Hey guys.
> 
> So, there's a lot going on in the world in response to this pandemic. This story is not, in any way, meant to make light of what's happening. Someone suggested it on a group I'm part of, and this story just kind of—popped up. Fully formed and ready to go.
> 
> A few notes about the timeline: obviously Labyrinth came out in 1986. This story starts in 2002. I was in my early teens during that time, so my knowledge of the era may be a little fuzzy. Please forgive any glaring mistakes.
> 
> I also wanted to make an older, more mature Sarah. We see an awful lot of her in her twenties. At first I legit thought about basing this story in 2020 and have her be 50, but the more this story flowered in my mind, the more I wanted to take away her access to our current technology level.
> 
> I'm also not a doctor, or a nurse, or any kind of medical health professional. I'm trying to stick to the facts of a virus like COVID-19, but I may make some errors that I hope you will forgive.
> 
> But, enough about all of that. Here's the first chapter of our Sarah/Jareth quarantine saga. Enjoy.
> 
> -CrimsonSympathy

**Chapter One**

_Sarah_

**September 17th, 2002. Day 0 of the quarantine.**

Sarah watched the news with a mounting sense of horror.

“Tonight at 12:01 a.m., curfew will befall every citizen in these United States of America. This is breaking news coming to you live from Washington D.C., where moments ago President George W. Bush took to the podium to bring us this news which is sure to devastate the world—”

Her phone rang, and she jumped at the sound. Rounding the coffee, she lifted the cordless from its cradle. “Hey Rhonda, did you see the news?”

“There’s something they’re not telling us,” she started, her voice raised and her cadence faster than normal. “First there’s 9/11, and now there’s a virus? This is warfare. Someone is trying to get us.”

“It’s affecting the whole _world,_ Rhonda,” Sarah said, biting her tongue against what she wanted to say. _You idiot._ ” No one is safe from this. Borders don’t matter to a virus.”

“It can’t be a coincidence.”

“It _is_ ,” she insisted. “Have you seen the footage from Afghanistan? They’re getting hit hard by this.”

Rhonda let out a sniff of derision and Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I need to keep this line clear,” she said. “My boss is going to call in a panic any minute.”

As soon as the words left Sarah’s lips, the call waiting tone buzzed in her ear.

“Shit, I got to go. Rhonda, I’ll call you—”

“Yeah, go!”

She hung up and the phone started ringing again. “Williams here,” she said without glancing at the caller ID. It was like the phone itself rang louder when he was calling.

“Sarah,” Hendricks gasped. “Our clients, our work—it’s getting frozen! I heard from the CEO. We’re ceasing all operations for the duration of the quarantine. Sarah,” he moaned. “What are we going to do?”

Sarah ran a hand over her face _._ “It’ll be okay, Brock. You have something set aside, right? You can get through this?”

“You know this is going to be the end of us, Sarah, oh my god,” he let out a keening sound like a dying animal. “I just started seeing him, too.”

Her boss as well friend, Brock was prone to hysterics, and this pandemic did nothing to soothe his nerves. Add to it his recent courtship with an attractive nurse who treated him during one of his moments of hypochondria, and Brock was spiraling down a dark hole she wasn’t sure she could keep him out of. “Listen to me, hon, you’re going to be okay. We’ll get through this. You may live in Queens, and we won’t see each other for a month, but I’ll always be a phone call away, okay?”

Hendricks sniffed loudly, then let out a long breath. “Okay,” he said, his voice weak. Small.

Sarah spoke with him for another fifteen minutes while pacing the living room, glancing at the clock on the wall all the while. It was after ten at night. Most of the stores would be closed. Was there anything she needed? She cast an eye over the open metal shelves that served as her cupboard. Plenty of pasta and rice. More than enough condiments. Cereal, baking supplies, canned food, nuts, and more were plentiful. She had stocked up early in the week, borrowing Brock’s car to buy in bulk out in Queens where the prices were better. Her fridge was a little lean on fresh produce, but there were plenty of frozen meats and vegetables.

Sarah refocused on the phone call with Brock, offering gentle assurances that she would be there whenever he needed something.

She hung up and stood in the silent living room. As her ears adjusted to not having a sobbing person on the other end of the line, she could hear more from her neighbors and the still-running television. Sinking down on the couch, she stared at the thirty-inch screen. A siren split the night, and someone shouted across the street through the cracked window.

Sarah’s apartment was up on the fifth story, well above most but not all her neighbors. Smack between Hudson Yards and Hell’s Kitchen, most of the surrounding buildings were still relatively short by New York standards. This one was six stories, and one of the nicer apartment buildings around, with all the modern amenities.

Thinking of that reminded her of her father, and the fit he’d thrown when she’d decided to major in graphic arts at New York University. “What are you going to do with a degree like that?” He’d demanded, red-faced and sputtering. “Work in coffee shops for the rest of your life, that’s what!”

But there was a need for people like her. Sarah did less on the creative side and more on the directive side these days, but her dad came around to the idea.

Sarah glanced at the clock again. Nearing eleven. Only a little over an hour to go until the quarantine was to take effect. People caught outside of curfew were to be fined no less than five hundred dollars according to the newscaster now speaking. Repeated offenses and you’d be jailed.

It was too late to call dad and Karen. Too early to call Toby, who was stuck out in Russia as a Senior exchange student. Saint Petersburg had been hard hit by the virus, and been one of the first areas to close its borders to all international flights. It had been too little, too late, but Toby had still been stuck. It would be several more days before their scheduled phone call.

 _The Russian Virus_ some people were calling it. Some idiots. Scientists and most sensible people knew the virus could have originated anywhere, at any time. It wasn’t Russia’s fault.

Her phone rang again, and she glanced down, the device still cradled in her left hand. It was Karen. _Not too late after all_.

“Hi, Karen,” she answered.

“How do you always know it’s me? I’m calling from the house phone.”

“Dad’s in bed by ten on the dot these days, no exceptions even for the end of the world,” Sarah tried to sound glib, but indicated from Karen’s sigh she hadn’t quite managed it. “I don’t suppose you’ll have much trouble keeping him inside. All he cares about in his retirement is his garden and his golf games.”

“Oh, your father is livid they canceled the season. But don’t you worry, we’ve got tapes of some old ones. How are you doing? Taking the news well? Wish you hadn’t ended it with Patrick?”

“I know I’m glad I ended it with Patrick,” Sarah said. “The last thing I would want for quarantine is to be locked up with someone I hate. Especially someone who cheated on me, Karen, come on I have some level of self-respect.” She fiddled with a loose thread on the couch. Not for the first time, she wished she owned a pet. Something to keep her company during long stretches such as these. The newscaster even said walking your dog was an exemption for curfew, so long as you wore a mask.

Karen _tsked_ in her ear. “You’re not getting any younger, Sarah. Thirty-two with no marriage prospects, no dates, no nothing? I thought you would grow out of this phase by now. Don’t tell me you’re—” she lowered her voice. “ _Are you a lesbian?_ ”

Sarah’s face heated. “No, Karen, I’m not a lesbian.” _It would have been easier if I had been_. Then a certain somebody wouldn’t creep into her thoughts at inopportune times. Like when she was kissing her boyfriends, or being caressed by them, and then she was imagining a whole other set of hands.

Patrick had been Patrick’s fault. He had a wandering dick and Sarah was more than happy to let him go sow his wild oats. Without her. But, like all the others, she never connected with him. Not in the way that people sang about in songs or wrote about in books or talked about in movies. No. There had always been something else. A shape about five foot ten with wild hair that made him seem all the taller.

She bit her bottom lip as Karen went on about biological clocks and how it doesn’t do to be too picky in these changing times. She made some little mumbles of affirmation and yawned, glancing at the clock again. Then the calendar on the wall. Then froze.

_Oh._

_Shit._

She sat bolt upright, clutching the phone to her ear. “Karen? Can I call you back tomorrow?”

“Oh, did I upset you dear, I’m so sorry, it’s just that—”

“No, you didn’t upset me it’s only I realized I still need to get something before all the shops close. Let me call you back tomorrow.”

She barely heard her hasty, “Okay dear, but—” before she hung up the phone, heart thundering.

The calendar on the wall had several red circles around today’s— _tomorrow’s_ —date. A date that was fast approaching, with less than five minutes to go. It was an anniversary of sorts. Late summer bleeding into early fall, it had taken her by surprise the first time, but never again. Not once.

 _Not until a global pandemic distracted me_.

Sarah took a deep, shaking breath and glanced at the window. She crossed the room and closed it, then threw the latch for additional comfort. She checked the other locks as well, making a quick circuit of the small six hundred square foot apartment.

She turned off the TV. _As long as he didn’t see the news, I should be okay._

A look at the clock again. Two more minutes.

Sarah swore and did a quick check. She was wearing yoga pants and a tank top with no bra. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked around, finding a flannel among her discarded clothes and throwing it on over the tank, buttoning the first couple of buttons.

Thirty seconds.

Sarah ran a hand through her long black hair and checked her appearance in the mirror near the front door before she froze, realizing what she was doing and who she was doing it _for_. Sarah quickly mussed her hair even more and gave her reflection dual finger guns before padding back into the living room.

Five seconds.

Four.

Two.

She closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

There was a crash of thunder out of previously clear skies, and when she opened her eyes he was there, lounging on the wingback chair that appeared to be his favorite, paging through a copy of _Elle_ magazine and looking all the world like he had been in the midst of a conversation with her when he said, “Well? Have you thought about what I asked?”

It always started like that. Ever since the first visit. Sarah ground her teeth and looked at the clock. Fifty seconds to get him out of here. _I can do this._ “I have. I would graciously decline, Goblin King.”

“Jareth,” he corrected, his mismatched eyes lifting to hers over the magazine opened to the _Is he good in bed, or do you only think he is?_ Quiz. “I know I’ve told you to call me Jareth.”

He rose, and not for the first time she noted the feline, predatory grace he possessed. He did not walk, he prowled. Toward her. Sarah sucked in a breath, which was a mistake. Earth and the ozone smell she always associated with magic and _him_ infused the air, making her chest tight.

_It’s not fair that he can do this to me._

He stopped two feet from her, head canted to the side. “You’re getting old, Sarah.”

Sarah’s jaw dropped open and as she sputtered, his mouth split into a broad grin. “You!”

He laughed. “It’s true. You’re not the fresh-faced girl who ate the peach anymore, are you? The one on the cusp of womanhood. No,” his gaze trailed down, and then down some more, tracing her athletic figure. “Despite your attempt to hide it behind that hideous shirt, you’ve become a delightful specimen.”

She clenched her hands into fists. “It’s time for you to leave. I gave you my answer. Same as last time.” Twenty seconds.

“You did, didn’t you?” He ran a gloved finger over his bottom lip, and her eye caught the movement. His smile widened. “So, Sarah, I will ask you again as I’ve asked you before: will you return with me to the goblin kingdom? Would you join as my ally and equal? My queen?”

Five seconds. He had to go. “Fine, I’ll think about it. You said your piece. Now, leave.”

“Why, Sarah...” he paused, his head tilting further, and he half-turned toward the window. “What was that?”

Sarah heard it a moment later. A siren, first one and then more of them, until there was a rising crescendo all around them that could be felt through the floorboards. “It’s nothing,” She said over the din, frantic now. It was passed 12:01. Curfew was now in effect. “Go on. Get out of here.”

A puzzled expression on his face, Jareth turned back to her. The furrow between his brow smoothed and the smile was back, mischievous and cunning both. His eyes flicked over to the television, which came on with a pop and a hiss which made Sarah jump.

The volume was up far louder than what it had been when she had it on last. The news woman’s announcement blared through the silent apartment. “That’s right, ladies and gentleman, we are now under a national lockdown. According to the President of the United States himself, all citizens are to shelter in place for the next thirty days. I repeat, for the next thirty days we are ordered to shelter in place to prevent the spread of the coronavirus—”

“Why, Sarah,” Jareth purred. “Were you trying to prevent me from knowing about this? You should know,” he flicked his wrist, and a perfectly spherical crystal appeared on the back of his palm. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave anyway, once the curfew came into place.”

She felt her face heating. “That’s superstition. You’re lying.” She did her research on the fae, during her college years. There were many conflicting reports on what they were and were not allowed to do once they stepped foot in the human world. One of the more obscure rules she had come across were the rules of hospitality, dictating the fae follow the laws of whatever land they happened to stand on. Apparently, fae were sticklers for the rules.

Jareth wove the crystal between his hands before saying, “This will take you to the Labyrinth. Catch.”

He tossed the crystal at her.

She caught it on reflex, flinching as she did, expecting the dry winds of the outer level of the Labyrinth to meet her cheeks. Instead, the crystal sat cold and inert in her hands. “But—”

“It should have worked,” he said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “Oh, well. That would have been a fun mistake to sort out, wouldn’t it have been? Now,” he sank back into the wingback chair and crossed his legs at the knee. “Whatever shall we do for the next thirty days?”

“Oh, no,” Sarah chucked the crystal back at him, and he caught it, letting it dance across his fingers before it disappeared. “You are _not_ staying here for thirty days. I don’t care about some dumb fae law. You can find a hotel room.”

“Oh, but I can’t, sweet Sarah. If I were to attempt to cross your threshold, I would find my way barred. Fae must obey the laws of hospitality. I am in your world, and in your world, I must follow its rules and laws. That is the way of things.” He rested his chin in his hand. “Perhaps we can take this time to discuss your wardrobe. This year has taken a decided turn for the worst, I’m afraid, and I thought that power suit with the shoulder pads was bad.” He shuddered. “I’m glad Karen stopped forcing you into those ghastly pastel monstrosities.”

Sarah crossed her arms over her stomach and leaned against the pillar that separated the kitchen from the living room. “That was _once_ , I was _nineteen_ , and I had a job interview that day.”

“And you were still dressed in the horrible outfit hours later, when you knew you would be getting a visit from your dear _Goblin King_? Please tell me you have more fashion-forward sense than that.”

“You’re awfully invested in clothing.”

“Of course I am, you see how I dress.”

She laughed, but then caught herself. When her fingers curled into fists she heard the faint creak of plastic under duress and looked down to find the phone still clutched in her left hand. Inspired, she dialed the few numbers she needed and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Sarah, what are you doing?”

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“My name is Sarah Williams. I’m at 500 West 43rd St, apartment 4-E as in elephant, and there’s a stranger in my domicile refusing to leave. Please send help, I think he may be dangerous.”

“Ma’am, are you in a safe—”

She hung up. _It will get them here faster_.

Jareth stood and was all of a sudden closer and closing in fast. Sarah took a few hasty steps backward, smacking her tailbone into the handle of the oven. “Sarah,” he murmured, invading her personal space, bringing with him that roiling smell of fresh lightning. “Did you call the authorities on me?”

She swallowed hard, leaning away from him. His position was precariously close. If she breathed too hard she would press her chest against his. Her nipples tightened a little at the image of that, and she tried to shake herself. _Snap out of it._

His breath fanned her face as he leaned forward a touch more, his vest falling forward to touch the flannel she wore. She could feel the heat of him, and her hands hung limp at her side, phone now abandoned on the kitchen counter, fingers twitching with the need to push him away. _Or pull him closer._

No.

She couldn’t think like that. Not with what was about to happen.

“Sarah,” he breathed, the word a whisper of moth wings against her lips. “Whatever am I going to do with you?”

She tried to swallow again but her throat was too dry. “You have to obey the laws of the land,” she croaked. “The police enforce those laws.”

“Do they?” He chuckled, and one gloved hand raised to trace the air over her cheek. He pulled away a beat later, eyes lingering on her lips. Aside from one time, when she was in her mid-twenties, he had never been so close to her. Not like when they danced in that room—or had it been a dream? “We’ll see about that.”

While she watched, paralyzed against the oven, Jareth’s clothes and hair shifted. The rust-colored leather vest was replaced with one of silk, underneath a fine cut suit jacket to replace the billowy shirt. His hair went from the silver-gold flyaway with streaks to a smooth top bun. His amulet still rested on his chest, this time as a sort of tie pin. He reached up with hands gloved in a pale grey linen to match his suit and adjusted the symbol of his power.

Sarah’s mind flashed on a moment of weakness, some years ago, when she felt the heat of that metal device against her skin, beneath her fingertips. The one other time, save tonight, she had been in the Goblin King’s presence for more than a minute or two. Not since she conquered the Labyrinth, and apparently earned the right to be its protector in more than name. He had told her, over the years: _you are meant to rule by my side._

She shivered now as the memory teased too-sensitive skin. His hand cupping her face, the warmth of him searing through the leather of his gloves. Yet no matter how long she stayed pressed against him, he never burned her. Instead, her body drank up that heat, tightened muscles loosening and breath leaving her in a sigh.

Sarah shook herself and refocused on Jareth, who was now adjusting his suit jacket, golden cufflinks sparking in the low light of her few lamps. It always seemed bright enough to her, but now that _he_ was here, she realized it looked like mood lighting. She flipped the switch on the kitchen overhead, bathing herself in fluorescent glory. Jareth’s nose wrinkled, and he took a step out of the circle of light, glancing up at the offending fixture.

There was a pop and Sarah shrieked, covering her head. “Are you _serious_?”

“Whatever do you mean?” He smirked, head tilted to the side as he once against adjusted his gloves.

 _He’s fiddling_ , she realized with some degree of fascination. _He’s nervous_. “What are you worried about?”

The abrupt change in her tone and line of questioning startled the Goblin King, who frowned at her and put his hands to his side, curling them into fists. “Nothing to concern you, precious.”

She scowled. “I hate that nickname.”

His eyes lit up. “Do you?”

 _Fuck_. She did not respond, inching further into the kitchen, though it was a dead end. Anything to get further away from him. But Jareth made no further move toward her, instead examining all the things she had stuck to her refrigerator over the last two years she’d lived here. Birthday cards. A polaroid of Toby with his new friend Alexei in Saint Petersburg, the two boys pink-cheeked and hugging each other around the neck, grinning. It was her favorite picture of him, and she saw it every day.

There was a little dry erase calendar long fallen to disuse as a to-do list. Laundry, it said in her looping cursive hand, clean bathroom, clean bedroom, clean apartment. His smirk was back, and she crossed her arms harder across her stomach, leaning into the corner cabinets nearest the dishwasher. Her heart was picking up a rhythm like a jackhammer, and she kept trying to look at something, anything, other than him.

Running the tip of his index finger over her clipped coupon for Pop Secret, Jareth said, “You’re staring.”

There was a knock on the door, keeping Sarah from letting loose a biting comment. He was baiting her. She knew he was baiting her, but she could not help but want to respond. And if she pushed him too far, well—a part of her thrilled at what he might do if she pushed him too far.

Jareth moved to the front door while she still stood there, mouth agape and fury rising like a tide of wildfire. She followed him, steps deliberate, and rounded the corner to the front hall as he pulled open the door, stepping aside with a grand sweep of his arm. “Officers, do come in.”

The two men at the door hesitated, assessing Sarah and Jareth both before they stepped into the hallway and Sarah backed up, allowing them to pass into the living room. One of them stopped near the entry to the living room and bedroom, letting his partner do a quick assessment of the room while he turned back to them. “So, Miss Williams, you made the call?”

“Yes, I—”

Jareth gave a small laugh, soft enough to cause the hair on the back of Sarah’s neck rise.

“I, um,” she cleared her throat. “Yes.”

“Ma’am, do you need to speak to me privately?”

“What? No! No. It’s fine. He’s fine.” She waved a hand at Jareth dismissively, as though to demonstrate how little it meant that he was there. Jareth snorted. “Really. Yes, I made the call. My friend here is a little…enthusiastic. Could you please tell him it’s okay if he leaves this apartment to find his own accommodations during the quarantine? He thinks he’ll get in trouble if he leaves.” She cast him a look. _Got you now._

The cop sighed as his partner from the other room let out a whistle and said, “Oh, boy.”

“Ma’am,” the first officer said, his tone suggesting that any amusement, had there ever been any, was now gone. “Has this man behaved in a threatening manner? Has he been following you? Do you know him?”

Sarah squared her shoulders. “No, he hasn’t. I do know him.” She didn’t answer his last question because it would have been a resounding _yes_ , and she wasn’t sure she wanted to throw Jareth to the wolves. He deserved it, but something in her hesitated. “I want him to go. I can’t be stuck here with him for the next thirty days. Help, please.”

“Listen.” The cop ran a hand over his bald head. “Come here, please.” He motioned toward the bedroom and Sarah followed him in. She didn’t bother to shut the door behind her, pretty sure Jareth could hear through the wood. “Okay, listen lady—”

“Sarah,” she said. “Please.”

“Sarah, you got two choices here. One, I book this guy on trespassing charges, and he spends the next thirty days in an overcrowded county lockup where he’s assured to get this disease we’re supposed to be avoiding. We have a freeze on all but the most important judicial cases. Most of the court and the DA are gone, you understand? He’d be way, way at the bottom of the list to get to. He would be released after the thirty days, so he was no longer our responsibility under quarantine law, but he’d spend those thirty days miserable. So, your second choice is to wait him out. Keep making him unwanted, and he’ll leave on his own. Won’t you, buddy?” The last was spoken with a raised voice, directed at the Goblin King who now leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Jareth flashed a smile. “Assuredly not. I’ll make myself useful during the stay, Sarah, you’ll see.”

The cop sighed and reached into his breast pocket, extracting a white business card with the city police department logo on one side and his personal contact information on the other. “I’m Rico Salamanca. Call me if he gives you _any_ kind of trouble.” He looked to Jareth again. “You could go get a hotel room or something, mister, we’re not going to stop you.”

“Would it be against the law?”

“Technically? Yes.”

“Then, no. I won’t be doing that.”

“Come on, man,” Rico sighed. “The girl isn’t interested. Don’t be a dick. Go somewhere else.”

“Is it my understanding that the police force is requiring me to break this law to seek alternative accommodations?”

The cop went still and stared Jareth down. “You want to watch it, buddy?” He asked, his voice soft but brittle as glass. “I could still book you on trespassing. Don’t push it.”

Sarah slipped the card into the front pocket of her flannel, glancing at Jareth as she did so. “Thank you, Officer Salamanca, for your counsel. I guess I’ll keep him around for now. I don’t want him in jail.”

“They’d eat him alive,” Rico muttered, sending her a wink.

She smiled, but inside she was thinking, _no, he’d have the entire building doing his biding in a matter of hours._ Jareth was her problem. She didn’t want to unleash him on the populace.

 _Should have thought about before I called the cops_. It seemed simple at the time. He was trespassing. He was breaking one of the laws. That might be enough to poof him back to his own world. But now, when faced with the reality of it? Jareth wouldn’t take kindly to confinement, though she had the feeling he wouldn’t resist arrest.

The thought of handcuffs tightening over his wrists made something low in her belly clench. What would it be like, to have the Goblin King so totally at her power? She never thought like this about anyone else, ever, but the image warmed her in more ways than one.

The cop, Rico, moved out of the bedroom, which Sarah realized with a despairing look was in an utter state of chaos. As was the living room, if she were honest. And the kitchen. Now that she had not one but _three_ men in the house with her, she realized how ridiculous this must look. A man, very rich and likely very powerful, in the semi-squalid one-bedroom apartment of a mid-level manager at a marketing firm. Trying to woo the reticent woman.

She wondered if they could sense the undercurrent of a heavy past between her and Jareth. If they knew that there was something more there to uncover.

The cops said their good-byes as their radios crackled with another call. Officer Salamanca gave her another long look at the front door. “If he does _anything_ , call me. I may come check on you, anyway. Hear that, bud?”

“Loud and clear,” Jareth said from behind her, startling her enough to make her jump. “Thank you for your visit, gentleman. It was a pleasure.”

Sarah shut the door and leaned her forehead against it. Standing in the narrow hall with him so close was—bad. She could hear his breathing, could feel the heat of him, he stood so near.

“Sarah,” he said, his voice whisper-soft. “You didn’t let them arrest me.”

“No,” she said, forehead still pressed to the door, her voice sounding flat to her own ears. “Don’t make me regret it.” She pushed off and past him, shoulder brushing his as she skirted around. She could hear his footfalls as he followed her, and she stopped in the living room, looking with fresh eyes at everything that surrounded her. “Tomorrow I’m cleaning. Tonight, I’m—” she glanced at him. “I’m going to bed. Do whatever you like, I guess. I’m barricading my door.”

“Do you think that will stop me?” His tone was teasing, though there was a darker undercurrent to it. Something sinister.

Sarah scoffed and folded her arms. “Look, whatever you think is going to happen in the next thirty days, it’s not happening, okay? Get that through your head.”

He said nothing.

After staring at him for a little longer, Sarah dropped her arms and moved around him to her bedroom, closing and locking the door before casting her gaze about the room and pushing her dresser against it. It wasn’t perfect, but hopefully if he tried to get in she could go down the fire escape. She wasn’t held here by any fae laws. She might be shirking the quarantine, but she would rather that than be at his mercy.

She shivered, glancing at the door again.

Seven years ago, when she was twenty-five, she had come close to saying yes. He had caught her at a moment of weakness, and she almost succumbed. Sarah touched her cheek, under her left eye. His lips had pressed there, drinking up her tears as he held her in an embrace so warm and so safe. She had never known the like of it again.

“Stop it,” she whispered aloud to herself. “It’s not going to happen again.”

She cut her hands through her hair in frustration.

Thirty days.

 _It might pass in a flash_ , she thought. She sank down heavy on her bed, pulling off her socks in preparation for sleep. She tossed them on the vague pile in one corner of her room where a laundry hamper had once been. _Then again, this might be the longest thirty days in the history of humanity._

She had the feeling the Goblin King, and whatever he planned, would put her through her paces.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Sarah_

_Are you trying to break my heart again?_

_Because I’m made of something different now_

_I’m made of everything you couldn’t take with you_

\- Snow Patrol, _Made Of Something Different Now_

**September 18th, 2002. Day 1 of the quarantine.**

“What the _hell_ did you do to my living room?”

Mismatched eyes on her. “Do you like it?”

There was a teasing edge to that voice, but Sarah ignored it. “Where’s my couch? My TV? What did you do with them?”

“Oh, Sarah, do settle down. I’ll put everything back the way it was.”

She alternated between fisting her hands and tugging at her hair. What lay before her was not the admittedly messy living room she had left last night, but something else.

Her artwork—largely bought from local artisans and some old college friends—still hung on the wall unmolested, but underneath was no longer the off-white wallpaper, but glittering stone without any seams or cuts. The floor was changed, the flagstones smooth and also sparkling like it contained mica. An enormous chandelier hung down the center of the room, made of horn and silver, dozens of unlit candles perched in the holders. An honest-to-god fireplace crackled in the place where her entertainment center had once been. A chaise lounge covered with furs sat near the bay window, but between it and her sat one of the largest beds Sarah had ever seen.

It was larger than a king-size, sunken into a sleigh-like stone and metal frame which had posts raised on all four corners, the metal twisting and winding around the stone columns like thorn vines. Jareth lounged in the middle of it, appearance back to—well, _normal_ was not quite the word for it—the _usual_. A black linen shirt cut down to the naval draped over his arms and the back of his hands in folds of rich fabric. Matching leggings ended in bare white feet, and she noted with some degree of interest that he had long toes.

The bed was heaped with pillows, furs, silks, and duvets. It was artistic in its messiness, Jareth the perfectly poised model encased in black.

Sarah blinked, realizing the room had been silent while she stared at the Goblin King, and he stared right back at her. A lazy smile spread across his sharp features as he stretched— _like a cat,_ Sarah thought—and rolled off one side of the monstrosity before padding around it to face her, gloved hands on his hips.

He canted his head to the side. “Sarah.”

She waited for more, scowling as the stretch of silence continued. “ _What_?”

His mouth split into a grin. “You’re staring. Even now.”

Heat seared the skin of her cheeks, and she glanced away, rubbing the back of her neck as she moved into the kitchen. “It’s too early for this shit,” she muttered. “I haven’t even had my coffee.”

“I took the liberty of making some for you,” Jareth said. “The pot was fresh as of ten minutes ago.”

She glared at him and eyed the full carafe offering sweet, sweet relief. “It’s not... roofied or anything, right?”

“As though I would tell you if it were,” he said, a gentle chiding to his tone. “You’re going to have to learn to trust me, Sarah.”

Sarah snorted but grabbed for the coffee anyway. _He’s going to be here for thirty days,_ she thought. _And I know he’s not interested in hurting me._

No, he had made his particular interest in her very well known.

Cream and sugar had been left out in silver pots near the coffee maker. She dropped in a cube of sugar and poured a liberal amount of cream into her coffee before turning, leaning back against the edge of the countertop with her mug cradled in her hands to regard the redecorating. Aside from the chaise and the bed, there were a few scattered chairs and furs along the floor that looked too inviting. None of the furs were from animals she could place—thick white pelts larger than even the largest of polar bears could ever possibly be, and some of the more exotic-looking ones had colors not found in her own natural world. Hues of purple and crimson, gold and silver.

There was a bar between the kitchen and the living room, so that you could be in one room and converse with someone in the other. The bar now contained large silver and horn bowls filled to the brim with the most delicious-looking fruits Sarah had ever put her eyes on. Each one of them looked—perfect. And their fragrance was tantalizing.

None of them, she noted with some curiosity, were peaches.

A plum was in her hand before she even realized she had reached out. She dropped it with a hiss, finding Jareth with his arms folded across his chest, watching her movements.

“This is faerie food, isn’t it?” Sarah demanded.

His head tilted. “Is it?”

She set down her coffee with a loud clunk on the countertop, kicking the offending fruit away so it rolled into the hall. “If I ate it, would I be under your thrall? Like last time?”

“Is _that_ what you think happened?” His smile was wide, showing off his sharp canines.

“You know damn right what happened.” She wanted to stamp her foot in exasperation. She was tired, still. Last night she had tossed and turned, unable to sleep despite the relative silence. Even her neighbors seemed uncommonly subdued, no music or arguments or stomping feet. But every sound she _did_ hear, she attributed to Jareth. What was he doing? What was he up to? Would he try to force his way into her bedroom, through the dresser and the locked door?

Jareth sat on one of the bar stools that still remained. Against the backdrop of her redecorated living room, he looked every inch the Goblin King. “Are you so afraid of me, Sarah?”

“I’m annoyed with you,” she corrected. “Especially with the way you answer every question with another question. It’s irritating.” She cast a withering look at the bowl of fruit and picked up her coffee again, taking a long pull.

“Perhaps we can strike a bargain, while I remain in your domicile,” he said, a touch of eagerness to his voice that she found unmistakable.

Sarah tilted her head. “Fae love bargains, don’t they? And in every story I’ve ever read, you find some tricky, slimy way to wriggle out of it. You lot are tricksters and thieves. Stealing children and preying on hapless mortals.”

“Do you think I would be here if you were an ordinary mortal? If you were so easily preyed upon?”

Her temper flared. “I _am_ ordinary! Or I would be if you would leave me alone!”

“My proposal is a simple one,” he said as though she had not spoken. “No trickery. A question for a question. I’ll answer yours if you answer mine. Easy enough, isn’t it?”

Sarah finished her coffee and rinsed out her mug in the sink. “You say it’s simple, but what if you give all one-word answers while I go into detail? That’s not exactly fair.”

“You would be the expert on what is fair, wouldn’t you Sarah?”

“It is way too early for this,” she muttered again, keeping her back to the Goblin King as she started prepping her pile of dirty tableware and cutlery to go into the dishwasher. _No time like the present to start on the chores_ , she thought. “I’m going to need my living room back,” she said, louder this time. “I guess you can make it into whatever you want while you’re sleeping, but I still live here. And I need to get work done, too.”

There were a couple of freelance projects she could wrap up while this quarantine was in effect. She would have to call, too, to make sure they still wanted the projects finished or if they also needed to put everything on hold like her main job had.

“A question for a question, Sarah,” he said, again acting as though she had not said a word. “An answer for an answer.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, then back. “And if you refuse to answer?”

“We could up the stakes,” he said, and that eagerness was back. “Absolute, raw honesty, in full, or...” he trailed off. “What punishment would you have of me?”

“Punishment?”

“For not answering a question, fully and openly.”

She thought while she scrubbed at a particularly caked-on mess. _This could be a good thing_. There was much she wanted to know about the Labyrinth. About him. But he had always been quick to outmaneuver her. She continued to load the dishwasher while she thought, letting silence drape across them until she turned to face him yet again, drying her hands on a rough striped towel. She leaned back against the edge of the countertop. “Say I agreed to your bargain, what would my penalty be if I don’t want to answer a question?”

He answered without hesitation. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” She asked, and her voice seemed to be far away. Her stomach twisted. “W-what do you mean?”

His expression morphed into something she could not quite placed, replacing the dry humor that had been there a moment before. “Surely you remember?” He said in a voice little over a whisper, his gaze intense.

Sarah swallowed, and felt the blush crawl up her neck to bloom in her cheeks. “Yes.” There was no other answer to give. She felt like he had her pinned through the chest, like she was a butterfly in a lepidopterist collection. And there was no doubt in her mind that he wanted to possess her. To keep her, always.

 _He’s a fae. He’s not human._ She could never forget. The desires and the needs of a fae were a foreign thing. Her heart continued to pound, and he hadn’t moved. Only changed his expression and looked at her with those disarming mismatched eyes.

“A kiss, Sarah,” he said. “That is your penalty. Now what is to be mine?”

She could smell ozone, and her nostrils flared. “Is this going to be binding?”

He gave her a long look. “Yes.”

“When you say a kiss—what are the parameters?”

Jareth sighed, and some of that otherworldly presence faded, making it seem like oxygen had just flooded back into the room. Sarah sucked in a deep lungful of clean air as he spoke. “A kiss. More than a peck, and it needn’t be deeply passionate, but it needs be a _true_ kiss. One that would matter between lovers.”

“We’re not lovers,” she said, and her voice was a rasp, as though she hadn’t used it in some time. “But, fine. A kiss. I accept.”

“And for me?” A crystal was suddenly in his gloved hand, and he rolled it over his fingers and between his palms, spinning and weaving it like a spider with its web.

Sarah watched the movement of the crystal and felt the pressure begin to build in the air again. The pressure she associated with magic. With him. “If you don’t answer your question honestly, fully, and completely, then...” she stalled, mind whirling. There were so many things she could ask for. Her thoughts seemed to blur. Finally, she licked her dry lips and said, “If you do not answer your questions, you will have to do one task of my choosing.”

“I cannot accept that.” He said, his voice still soft and the crystal dancing over his fingers.

She crossed her arms over her stomach. “I won’t ask for big things. Or for anything that will harm you, physically at least. The tasks will have to be within the realm of reason for our situation.” She lifted her brows. “Does that please you?”

“Yes.” The second the word left his mouth, the pressure in the room crested and cut off so fast she staggered. The crystal disappeared. “The bargain is struck.”

“Woah—” Sarah braced herself on the countertop. “What was that?”

“ _That_ ,” Jareth said. “Is what happens when you strike a bargain with the fae. We’re both held to the bargain. It’s like a spell.”

“You said it was binding, but it was a spell? You cast a spell on me?” She could not help the note of panic that crept into her voice.

“ _You_ did it as much as me,” he said, and stood from the bar stool, walking back into the living room. “As soon as you begin a bargain with a fae, you begin to weave your own intentions into the spellwork. I am under it as much as you.”

Sarah gaped as he waved a hand and the living room returned to normal as though he had flipped the pages of a book. Everything was where she had left it, dirty laundry, dishes, piles of mail, and all. Jareth was highlighted in the sunlight streaming through the windows, his hair shimmering.

“But I’m not magical,” Sarah said, pursuing him into the newly normal space. “How can I weave spellwork if I’m nonmagical?”

Jareth moved to her bookshelf and began perusing the titles, running a gloved fingertip along the spines. “Everyone has a degree of magical affinity,” he said. “And as I said, it is _like_ a spell, a bargain. It is not an actual spell or, yes, you would need more than the latent magical talent you have. And you do have quite a bit, for a mortal.” He pulled out a collection of Sylvia Plath and thumbed into the introduction. “How many lovers have you had?”

She about choked. “What?”

“How many lovers have you had?” He repeated, an edge to his voice now. “Come, now. I’ve answered three of your questions already. This is only the first of mine.”

She did a quick mental calculation. “Four.”

“And?”

“And they didn’t work out. None of them,” she crossed her arms over her chest and flopped onto her favorite spot on the sofa, staring at the floor. “There’s not much to tell. Do you want their names?”

“Not particularly.” He cradled the book and slid into the wingback chair he typically occupied. It had been in her bedroom or her apartment since she was twenty-three. It was upholstered in a deep velvet green fabric, worn a little at the arm rests. “Did you love any of them?”

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “This is getting very personal, very quickly.”

“Answer the question, Sarah. Or...” his voice perked up. “Conceding defeat?”

“Fat chance.” She took a deep breath and looked away. “No, I didn’t love any of them. I think I thought I was in love with at least one of them, but even that wasn’t—it didn’t _feel_ right.”

His next words sounded so much closer, even though when she glanced back he had not moved from his chair. “Why do you think that is, precious?”

Scowling, she snarled, “Not why you think, you prick, and I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? But that doesn’t mean I’m suppressing anything.”

“As you say, precious.”

“Stop calling me that.” She got up and started to pace. Then she turned on him, finger pointed. “What about _you_? How many lovers have _you_ had?”

His smile was entirely too self-satisfied for her liking. “Unlike what you undoubtedly think, I have had five lovers.”

She frowned, then resumed her pacing. _Five_? He must me joking, or lying. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Oh, we’d both feel it,” he said. “Ask me something else.”

“D-did you ever love any of them?” She was startled by how hesitant the question left her, but there it was. Between them.

“Yes,” he said.

As soon as the word left his lips, Sarah felt it. The lie. It was a combination of a sour taste in her mouth coupled with a bone-deep certainty he had not spoken the truth.

He smiled. “Ask me again.”

She licked her lips. “Did you love any of your partners?”

“No,” he said. There was a pause, and he inclined his head. “Do you see now? If you do not comply with the parameters of the bargain, I’ll feel it. Just like you’ll feel it if I do the same. Handy, isn’t it?” He rose, setting the book down on the chair cushion, and took a step toward her. “Now. I lied to you. So, you get to use one of your penalties. What would you have of me?”

The way he regarded her screamed a warning. If she misused this power over him now, he’d return the courtesy ten-fold. She knew he would. He was demonstrating the constraints and limitations of the bargain they had struck, so she understood it. He was giving her some small measure of power over him, however, at this moment. And she felt it. Powerful. She could ask him to do almost anything.

Images of the Goblin King scrubbing her toilet or doing her laundry flashed through her mind with a wicked longing. Instead she ran a hand through her hair, using the extra time to think. “Okay, fine, my task for you is...” she looked around the room. “Open the window. We need some fresh air.”

Jareth gave a soft snort. “Fresh air? In New York?” But he moved toward the windows anyway, unlocking them before sliding them up a few inches to let in the sounds of outside. Unlike usual, there were no blaring horns or the gentle murmuring of passing pedestrians. Instead, she heard the soft coo of pigeons and a strange sort of silence.

“What happens if you don’t do my task? Or I don’t—um, kiss you.” She flushed at the words, annoyed at herself for her bodies reaction.

Jareth, who had been staring out the window to the street below, spoke so soft she barely heard him. “You face the ultimate penalty. A bargain broken means the other party can demand any price, any retribution, they see fit.”

She felt a glimmer of hope. “Does that mean if you don’t do as I ask, I could tell you to leave me alone? To never come back?”

“Yes,” he said, then turned his head, so he could see her. “It also means, my dear Sarah, that if you renege on your bargain, I will pull you back into the Underworld, for that is the greatest ambition of my heart.”

She shivered. “Even if I said no?”

He stared at her, eyes flashing like a cats in the night. “Even if you said no.”

A chill swept down her spine.

She had entered into a fae bargain. Magic now bound the both of them together.

_You are a fucking idiot, Sarah Williams._

“That’s never going to happen. I’m staying here. I have a life here.”

A slow smile crept over his features. “Of course. But for the next twenty-nine days, you’re stuck with me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Jareth_

_You flicker. I cannot touch you._

_I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns._

_\- Poppies in July_ , by Sylvia Plath.

**September 19th, 2002. Day 2 of the quarantine.**

“What’s that?”

A slow smile stretched his lips, but he did not look up from his slow perusal of the black-and-white photographs in the album he found among Sarah’s other books. Photos of her, of Toby, of Karen and her father Robert. Jareth knew all their names now, had learned them shortly after Sarah beat his labyrinth and left behind a broken city.

A city he rebuilt, and one which needed a queen.

“Jareth, that was a question.”

He lifted his eyes to her. She was perched on one of the bar stools, cradling another mug of coffee. She went through three cups yesterday, and this was her second today. “A photo album,” he said. “I missed out on a great deal in between my visits. I’m catching myself up.”

A sweet red flush rose across her nose and cheekbones. Cheekbones which had grown more prominent and cuttingly beautiful with age. Everything about her had sweetened. Not unlike a cask of fine vintage. Yet she still blushed as prettily as the maid she had been when she ran the labyrinth. “Could you not?” She asked. “Some things should remain sacred.”

He closed the book but kept a finger between the pages where he had been. “Sarah, are you afraid of me finding something in these pictures you’d rather keep hidden?”

That blush again, darkening this time. “There’s a couple of pictures of me with old boyfriends.”

“And why should my seeing those bother you?”

She took a long sip of her coffee, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. I just—I get a queasy feeling when I think of you looking at them.”

Curious. He removed his finger from between the pages of the album. “I’ll respect your wishes.” He rose and returned the book to its place on the very bottom shelf

“Jareth?”

He straightened, facing her. “Yes?”

“Could you get around the fae law if you wanted to? Could you break the quarantine?”

“No.” He flashed a smile. “I will always tell you the truth, Sarah, even if it’s counter to what you want to hear.”

“But you’ll keep your own counsel on some matters?”

“Indeed,” he walked toward her and then slid into the barstool next to hers, his knee brushing against the outside of her thigh. She reddened again and moved her leg away. “Are you attracted to me, Sarah?”

She rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m surprised you waited so long to ask.” Her eyes flicked to his and away. “Yes, I’m attracted to you. But physical attraction isn’t everything. There must be something more.”

He wanted to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. He wanted to tilt her head, so she looked at him. “And what,” he said, his voice soft. “Would be enough, Sarah? What is the key to your heart?”

Her eyes slid closed and she pursed her lips. “I won’t answer that.”

“You know the penalty if you don’t answer.”

“Yes.”

Jareth could not help his self-satisfied smirk. He leaned back against the low back of the barstool, his left elbow coming to rest on the counter behind him. Sarah was ignoring him, the color still high in her cheeks. “You could always tell me,” he said in his quiet voice. “What would be the harm, Sarah? Are you afraid you’ll succumb?”

A tic along the skin of her jawline. “Yes,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I’ve come too close before.”

An image arose in his mind. Of Sarah, trembling like a frightened bird, her body soft and tender in his arms. He remembered how she had tucked against his chest, sliding against his body like a key slipping smooth into its lock. How full he had felt that night, how hopeful he had been of the future. Jareth knew she had almost said yes, almost gone with him. If it hadn’t been for—

“If your brother had not called that night,” he said. “Would you have gone with me?”

A tear slipped down one of her cheeks, though he was unsure if it was a tear of anger or pain. Her words were soft. “I don’t know. I think I might have, but he’s one of the many reasons I can’t do it. I can’t disappear into another world.”

“You could visit here as often as you like,” he said, and brushed the back of his gloved fingers against her forearm, making her jump. He pulled away. “Did you think I would keep you locked in a cage?”

Sarah huffed. “I feel like I’ve answered a million questions.”

“One more, precious.”

She shot him a poisonous glare. “We both know that’s not your last question.”

“It is for now.”

Baring her teeth, Sarah ground out, “I don’t know, again. From what I’ve read, the fae love to possess people, and I know you’re fae. But I also know—I know you, to a degree. I think you want to keep me, but I don’t think you’d keep me chained, literally or figuratively.”

“The image does hold its appeal.” Her mouth fell open, and he bit back his laugh and a simultaneous desire to run a fingertip along her plump bottom lip. His smile widened. “I believe you owe me something, precious. A kiss, if you recall? For not answering one of my questions.” His gaze intensified on her. “Unless you forfeit.”

Sarah gave a jerky shake of her head. “Never.”

He let silence stretch between them for a long moment before rolling his wrist and lifting a single hand. “I believe this is where you come to me.”

There was an exhalation of breath, smelling of sweet cream and coffee, and then she was sliding off the barstool. Her movements were stiff, the constant flickering of her eyes an indicator of her nerves.

Jareth forced himself to remain still. Relaxed. He sensed anything from him now might be misinterpreted.

Sarah hesitated, then slipped into the space between his spread knees, her hips bumping against his thighs. The crimson color never left her face, only deepened. She took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to his. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

He let his lips twitch upward. “No.”

She leaned forward a little before making an exasperated sound and pulling back. “You’re too far away.”

“Brace yourself on me, Sarah,” he murmured, still unwilling to move.

“You’re such an insufferable ass,” she muttered but leaned forward again. This time her hand connected with his chest, above the hard beat of his heart. Surely she could tell by his pulse what she was doing to him? Her eyes widened a little, but she did not slow her forward momentum, her mouth colliding with his.

Whatever Jareth had been expecting, it wasn’t this. This forcefulness. Sarah’s fingers curled in his shirt as she pressed her lips hard against his, her mouth opening a little so her teeth nipped his lower lip. His mouth fell open, and she used that moment to taste him.

But before he could return the favor, before he could chase that delicious tongue, she pulled back. Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she stepped away, though his arms lifted in a vain attempt to keep her there.

“There. That would have meant something between lovers, wouldn’t it?” She was trying to be flippant, but he heard the faint breathiness to her voice and noted how she stalwartly refused to look at him.

He licked his lips, tasting the faint hint of her which remained. Coffee and cream, and a sweetness that was all her. He tasted it once before. “Yes,” he said. “That mattered.” He could sense the satisfied vibration along the spell wound between them both, signifying their compact fulfilled.

Sarah ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve got work to catch up on, but you can watch TV or something while I’m doing it.”

Jareth stayed where he was as she went to her computer and fired it up, his eyes silently tracking her movements.

_And so the games begin..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Labyrinth. I don't think I put in that disclaimer before, but I'm putting it in now. I don't own any of this material except for the fact that I wrote it. I just do this for fun, ya'll.
> 
> Okay, this chapter was much shorter but overall I think we're going to have 32 chapters (look at the title) and some of them are just going to be shorter than others.
> 
> Since I last wrote/spoke, some things have happened. Namely, my husband declared that we're getting a divorce. So… yeah. In the midst of a pandemic, I am also dealing with that.
> 
> Suffice it to say, the creative energy was not flowing for a while, but I am going to try to consistently update this story every week at least.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter Four **

_Sarah_

**September 20th, 2002. Day 3 of the quarantine**

He was trying to drive her mad.

Jareth was, other than his insatiable habit of poking through her things, a perfect house guest. He left no mess. He prepared her coffee and some of her meals. He provided conversation when she desired it, and silence when she did not. He was stimulating.

And yet she often found herself off-guard. The days seemed longer with little to break them apart from one into the next—she had quickly finished the single freelance project which was still on the table—and, so she found herself thinking about _him_. Constantly.

She narrowed her eyes. _That’s what he wants. He wants me to fall for this civility and gentlemanly behavior. It’s not going to work._

Sarah knew what he was trying to do, and she refused to give in.

_I’m going to lose it._

The Goblin King himself was now lounging on her fire escape, chatting with the upstairs neighbor through their window. “Oh, no, I’m a psychic. A _professional_ psychic.”

She could barely hear the muffled reply, but it was heavily interspersed with laughter.

Jareth cocked an eyebrow and glanced back at Sarah, a smile on his open mouth. She blinked, startled to have been caught staring, and looked away. “Let me show you.” He summoned one of his crystals, popping it into existence without moving an inch. There was a loud exclamation from upstairs, and running footsteps as the rest of the Italian family joined in.

_I’m staring again_ , she reminded herself. _I should go... read a book or something._

But there was a book half-open on her lap at that precise moment, and she could not seem to tilt her head down to glance at it. _Which one was it again?_

The sunlight turned his hair molten, and the upswept brows and shimmering, colorful skin looked like skillfully applied makeup in the stark yellow glare. Or, perhaps, he employed a glamour and made everyone see something different.

Sarah frowned at this thought as Jareth brought the crystal up to before his face, weaving it back and forth between one hand and the next. Back and forth. Hypnotizing. And with that self-satisfied smile curling his lips, he knew she was entranced. But it was to the neighbors he spoke. “Hector, I see that you are a pianist. You once dreamt of being up on stage in Carnegie Hall, playing your compositions in front of the New York elite. But you’re happy where you are, working at that late-night comedy show, and are proud of how far you have come. You’re worried about your job, about money—” the crystal stopped moving and Jareth clasped it in one gloved hand. “Aren’t we all?”

There was a beat of absolute silence, and then the upstairs erupted in cheers and stomping feet and cries of, “Do it again! Again! More!”

He grinned ear to ear now, chuckling as he raised both hands as though to surrender. The crystal was gone. “I’m afraid I must go back inside for now, but I promise I’ll be out here the same time tomorrow, so long as the weather holds.” Without another word, he slid through the open window and touched down lightly on her hardwood floor. His eyes found hers. “You have lovely neighbors, Sarah. Hector mentioned he was glad to see you have a gentleman friend, finally.”

Heat entered her cheeks. It seemed to be happening with greater frequency these days. “Hector and his family are kind people, but they’re a little too heavily focused on traditional family values.”

He cocked a brow. “Oh?”

“I caught him lecturing another young woman who lived in the building that no decent man will date a woman with visible tattoos, and I think she was about to lay the beat-down on him when I showed up.” She chuckled a little at the memory. “She’s moved out since.”

Jareth moved toward her, making the movement graceful, predatory. As though he were stalking her. “I have a question for you, Sarah dear.”

She felt her stomach flutter and hugged her book to her belly. “What is it?”

“Do you like seeing me in your world? Do you enjoy me being here?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Is that all you think of? Yourself? There is a global pandemic going on.”

“Answer the questions, Sarah.”

“Fine. Yes, I like seeing you here. Seeing you interact with other people, especially. I liked how you handled the cops, I found it thrilling. And watching you with Hector and his family is endearing.” She had said too much, but she wasn’t sure if it was enough to satisfy the spell. What was the harm in him knowing, anyway? It wasn’t as if these thoughts were going to change her mind about him. He was still her adversary. She had conquered him, and he wanted to conquer her right back. “As for if I enjoy you being here, I’m not sure. Sometimes I like it, but sometimes I don’t.”

She fell silent and tried to feel if the spell had been satisfied, but unlike Jareth, she could not tune herself into its subtleties, only its glaring absolutes. When no blaring alarm seemed to sound, she breathed a sigh of relief and lifted her eyes to his.

There was an inscrutable look on his face. He stood too close. Seated as she was in her office chair by the window, her back to her desk, he had her pinned. Trapped. A shiver worked down her spine, and she lifted her chin, determined not to show she might be afraid. Or intrigued.

“What do you want, Goblin King?” She asked.

“Right this moment?”

“Yes.”

Jareth slid forward a little. “I want to ask you the question you won’t answer so you’re forced to kiss me again. Only this time, I’ll be ready for you. You won’t take me by surprise again.”

She arched a brow even as her heart began to thunder in her chest. “Is that allowed? Can you ask the same question again?”

His smile was sharp. “There is no rule against it.” He tilted his head to the side. “But I won’t do it, Sarah. I may want to, but I won’t. You know what I want from you. I will take your kisses when I stumble upon a new question you won’t answer as fair winnings, but I will not return to the same field time and time again. There’s no sport in that.”

“Oh, this is _sport_ to you, is it?”

He reached down and grasped the arm of her rolling swivel chair. She leaned back as he pulled her closer. His arms bracketed her, her fingers twisting in her lap as his breath fanned her face. “Do you want to kiss me again, Sarah?”

_Fuck_. Warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with embarrassment. She saw his nostrils flare. “Yes.”

“Will you?”

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. “Probably, yes.” Her heart would not stop pounding. She wet her lips, wanting that moment to happen. The moment where he leaned down, brushed against her, the kiss starting sweet but ending with a demand she may meet. _Stop it_ , she told herself. _Stop thinking like that._ He was her enemy.

His smile was so knowing she wondered, for a panicked moment, if he had read her mind. Then he pushed off her chair, and she took a deep breath, feeling as though the air had rushed back into the room. Jareth moved away from her little office area within the living room and turned on the repaired light in the kitchen.

“I’ll make dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Labyrinth. You know this, I know this, the world knows this.
> 
> Surprise, lovelies, there are going to be two chapters uploaded today. The one you're on—chapter four—and chapter five as well. Just wait a few minutes if you don't see it right away, they should be uploaded pretty much instantly.
> 
> I wanted to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone who reached out in private messaging or in the comments and extended their well wishes this last week. It was a joy to read all of your comments and messages and know that people who are digging my work are also looking out for me a little, too.
> 
> Things are still crazy here, but unless I say otherwise once a week looks to be the upload schedule. So you should hopefully see these come up on Friday.
> 
> Love you all. Stay safe. Times are weird.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Jareth_

_Didn’t know what this would be_

_But I knew I didn’t see_

_What you thought you saw in me_

\- MS MR, _Hurricane_

**September 21st, 2002. Day 4 of the quarantine**

“Sarah?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have a birthmark?”

A rustle of covers and a foot grazed his knee. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“On my left hip.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.”

“What does it look like?”

She sighed. “It’s a birthmark. It looks like a birthmark.” The spell rumbled, and Sarah let out another huff of breath. “Fine. It’s—you _cannot_ think too much of this. Just... don’t. It’s shaped like a cherry, or a peach.” She traced the shape in the air with her finger.

Jareth grinned. “A peach?”

“Stop.”

“Would you like a peach, Sarah?”

“I very much would not.”

“Peach juice? Peach turnover? Dumpling? No? I suddenly find myself with a craving.”

She shifted again, and this time he captured her bare foot in his gloved hands, kneading into the tight muscles in the arch with a precision that had her making a delicious little sound, even a moment after she attempted to pull away.

“You’re so tense, precious,” he murmured.

“I wonder why.”

He focused on his task, and he felt her relax by degrees until her other foot was nudging up to the first one, and he switched to it as she sighed in contentment.

“Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but why are you giving me a foot massage?”

He did not look at her. “Because I want to ease your pain, in whatever way I can.” He paused, the spell swelling between them. “And because I want your love. Your devotion.”

“That’s a lot of reason.”

“Yes.”

Her head fell back as he continued his work, her book splayed across her chest. She was wrapped in a soft blanket on the couch with him, and up until a few minutes ago, they had been quietly reading together. His book—a copy of _The Feminine Mystic_ —had a slip of brown paper marking the pages halfway through where he had stopped reading.

“I can’t believe it’s only been four days of this,” she said at a near whisper. “Are the days crawling by, or is that just me?”

“Time does seem to have slowed down considerably,” he said, and a thought struck him. He stopped his movement on her foot despite her mewl of protest. “I may have something that could help divide the days, however.”

She sat up, pulling her feet away as she hugged her knees to her chest, heedless of her book. “You do? What is it?”

“It will take some preparation, precious,” he smiled at her. “You sound so eager.”

She affected an air of disinterest. “I wanted to know what it was.”

“A surprise, now.”

“If I asked you an official question, would you answer it then?”

“Perhaps.”

“Okay—what do you have in mind for a distraction for the two of us?”

He grinned. “I won’t answer that.”

Sarah stuck out her lower lip a little before a triumphant smile lit up her face. “Then let your punishment begin,” she exclaimed and scooted around on the couch so her back faced him. She pulled her waist-length hair out of the way and turned her head a little, so she could eye him. “I need you to do to my shoulders and back what you did to my feet. And no funny business! Just a massage. Please,” she added at the last in a near whisper.

It was all he could do to not grin ear to ear. She was starting to let down a little of her guard around him. Not much, but enough. Enough that she was showing the true nature of her personality. Vulnerable yet fiery.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to press into muscles knotted tight. He worked at her, keeping his focus professional, but marveling all the while that he was able to touch her. Her. His Sarah.

 _You have no power over me,_ she had said all those years ago. But he could not say the same, could he? For under his soothing fingers, he could feel her begin to relax, and he treasured every little sigh and caught breath. They were close enough he could smell her. Almonds. Jasmine. Something else. Like the elusive taste of her. Something unique and new.

He craved newness. Needed it after so many hundreds of years alone. _And time is short._

She was mortal, yes, but mortals brought to his kingdom were often unaffected or immune to time and its inexorable crawl. His precious Sarah would live, yes, but only if she returned with him.

He slid from the couch and instructed her to lay on her stomach. She complied, moving with an ease of trust that made hope bloom in his chest.

“I’m bent over the computer all the time,” she said. “My shoulders and back are always so tight. Thank you.”

He used her new position to his advantage, rolling his palms up and down along the sides of her spine, easing out muscles that were like bands of iron. He worked on her for some time, keeping track of every small movement and exhalation of breath, each little moan and small whimper. Slowly, inch by inch, she relaxed beneath his hands. “How long has it been?”

“ _Mm_ , at least six months. I haven’t had the time, and with the pandemic, the massage and the tattoo parlors were some of the first places that closed down.”

“Tattoo?”

He saw her cheeks redden. “I have a small piece. On my right shoulder.”

He smoothed his hand over the spot and noticed her shudder beneath him. He pulled away, leaning back to sit on his heels, hands spread over his thighs. “You’ve never shown me.”

“No.” She turned so she was facing him, her cheek pressed into the blue fabric of the couch cushion. “I will.”

“When?”

“Not now.”

He gazed at her and felt a rising tension swell in the air between them. Her fist was covering her mouth, but her wide green eyes were unblinking upon him. “Sarah—”

“No,” she interjected, her voice a little muffled. “Please, don’t ask me anything.”

His mouth slid shut. A dozen questions whirled in his mind, demanding release, but he kept them locked down deep in his lungs, far behind his lips and teeth.

“Did you know about me, before you took my brother?” She asked.

“You have your questions, but I may not have mine?”

“You’ve had plenty of answers. I want some of my own.” She still stared at him, and there was a weight to that gaze he had rarely seen. Similar to the final confrontation. A calm. “Was it like the playbook said, that the Goblin King fell in love with the girl and gave her special powers, or was that just—what was that?”

Jareth wanted to pull off his gloves and show her. To confess all, yet years of solitude kept his tongue still. “I knew of you before you wished your brother away, yes. You had caught my attention.”

“Why?” It was a whisper.

He shifted a little, so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. It was oddly intimate, sitting like this while she lay before him, as though spread out on an altar. A priestess embodying the goddess. A sacrifice, in more ways than one. He wanted to be done with this talking. But they had entered a bargain, and the spell was pressing between them.

“Because of your affinity with magic, at first. Not many mortals can harness it the way you can. It made me take another look, and when I looked I saw your heart. It was fractured. Shattered. I saw that behind your costumes and your smiles, your tantrums and your stamping feet, you were wailing. Screaming to be heard. You were lonely. Tired. Confused. It was because your mother left you, wasn’t it?”

As he spoke, he had been looking down near Sarah’s feet, but now he found her face once more, and his stomach lurched to see the steady stream of tears now peppering the rich fabric. She sniffed and rose, so she was seated, hands pressed to the edge of the couch as tears continued to flow. “You saw—” she choked, and when he made a move toward her she held up a shaking hand. He went still. Sarah took a deep breath. “And you still wanted me?”

“Now, more than ever. You were too young, then. And you had not yet earned your place. But even if you had not run the Labyrinth, I would have found a way to you, eventually.” He took a breath. “Sarah, I—”

“I’m going to go to bed now,” she said, interrupting him. She rose and gripped the blanket around herself. “Sleep well.”

Jareth did not move until the door to her bedroom closed with a soft _snick_ of a sliding lock. He tried to pretend it did not bother him, but it did.

 _One step forward, two steps back_ , he thought with some wry humor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_Sarah_

**September 22nd, 2002. Day 5 of the quarantine**

The ballroom was much as she remembered it. Awash in bright light, glitter and streamers and candles and masked figures all shimmering and twining and vying for her eye. Rich fabrics and lush furnishings caught and held her gaze. Yet she knew there was something— _someone—_ she needed to find, and she grew increasingly frustrated as she pressed and wove her way through the throng.

The dress she wore was a more subdued affair than many of the partygoers. A creamy white, her slinky low-cut top gave way to pleated folds of silken fabric that brushed her ankles. A strappy heel short enough to dance in was bedecked in crystals that caught the light as she moved. Strings of small crystals kept the edges of her top together, crisscrossing over her chest and down her back in alternating silver and gold. Something about it, when she caught sight of herself in a mirrored silver vase, made her think of Jareth’s talisman.

Music like the sweetest of wind-up boxes joined in with the visual stimuli to create a dreamlike quality. _Or is that what this is? A dream? It feels so much like that time I danced with Jareth._

 _Jareth_. The name reverberated through her mind, seemed to echo throughout the space.

As though she had summoned him, Jareth was just there, in front of her. _Resplendent_ was the word that went through her head as she catalogued his color choices. Reds, this time, encased in black and shimmering silver thread. If he were one of her clients, he would be the colors of powerful firms and authoritative agencies. And Jareth looked every inch a creature of immense power.

Her throat tightened, and for a moment she forgot how to breathe. How to think. Sometimes his effect was like that.

Taking advantage of her stillness, he prowled forward and took her hand and waist, pulling her a step closer. The heat coming off him was incredible. A little more and it would be uncomfortable, but it was perfect.

Jareth started the dance, and she moved with him with as much ease as she had the first time, if not more so. There were subtle changes to his body she paid much more attention to, and she saw his smile grow as she began to anticipate his motions. Where his hand rested above her hip, and where she touched him on his shoulder, it was as though two pulse points had come alive. Every beat of her heart echoed in those warm places.

“Is this a dream?” She asked, dipping into a half-twirl.

“What do you want it to be?”

“I asked first.”

A smirk and he pulled her off the dance floor. They stood near the edges of the room, where a silvery sheen obscured anything beyond a few more tables and chaise lounges. “Even here you would hold to our bargain?”

She blinked and watched as Jareth took her in, at last, his gaze traveling down her body and back up with a heat she could feel pool in her middle. She licked dry lips. “Even here? What do you mean?”

“This is a dream, Sarah. Your dream. You invited me in. At last.”

Her face flamed as she recalled other dreams. Other scenarios that were less tame than this one. “Is this the first time you’ve been here?”

His gaze darkened, and her heart stuttered. “Yes, though I have the feeling you have seen my facsimile?” His eyes flicked down her front and he smirked. “ _Interacted_ with it?”

She wanted to push him away. He was too close. But when she placed a hand on his chest to do that, it rested there instead, fingers curled against the thick fabric of his jacket. “No. Nothing happened with you in old dreams.”

“A lie,” his smile widened. “You know what that means.”

“I—”

She did not have a chance to formulate a thought before his mouth came down on hers. For a stunned few seconds, she simply reacted, opening her lips to his teasing tongue and letting him taste her. Both her hands were curled into fists against his jacket, but as the kiss continued she realized _I have to kiss him back._ And the kiss had to matter. _Damn him._

She stepped into him, pressing their bodies together, and began taking back control. Jareth growled when she nipped his lower lip, but she was able to taste him right back. The heat radiating from him loosened every muscle she had, and she wanted to keep going. To keep kissing him, endlessly, until their clothes were off, and they became nothing but breath and— _no_.

Sarah pulled back. Jareth began to chase her, but she held up a hand. “No.”

He went still, and only then did she register one of his hands had been cupping her left bottom while the other was buried in her hair.

“Do the rules of our bargain extend to when we’re in a dream?” She asked as he disentangled himself from her.

He did not meet her eye.

“Jareth? Do they?” She reached for him, to do what she was not sure, but he disappeared as her hand neared him. Sarah let out a frustrated sound.

And opened her eyes.

Her bedroom was bathed in light. She had cleaned everything, even the baseboards, and the surfaces gleamed. Her sheets were tangled around her legs, and as she struggled to free herself she heard the sounds of Jareth moving around in the living room. _That bastard._

She could still feel it. Heat between her thighs, and a sensation she only associated with Jareth. A mixture of longing and fear. Her lips trembled a little in remembrance of the kiss.

Sarah stood and did a quick check. She wore pajama pants with little hearts on them—a Valentine’s gift from one of her ex’s—and a black tank top. She put on a bra, uncomfortable being around him with the girls free-flying, and ran a hand through her hair. _I am going to kill him._ If she were a betting woman, she would put money on the fact that the agreement didn’t hold in dreams. He had kissed her—and it _had_ been him, not a dream.

The door bounced a little off the wall when she threw it open, striding past it into the main living area.

“Jareth! You—”

She choked on her words, her eyes taking in the impossible.

The ocean was in her living room.

Jareth, wearing loose linen pants and a billowing cream-colored shirt smirked in satisfaction as she remained speechless, her gaze jumping from the hallway behind her to the shaded jungle she stood in, to the white sand beach beyond and the crashing azure waves. Her hallway opened up behind her like a rip in the fabric of reality. She backed up a few steps and glanced through her bedroom door to the windows still streaming with midmorning light.

 _Yup, we’re still on the fifth floor_ , Sarah thought to herself before turning back to the steamy tropical scene, so much different than New York in early autumn.

“Well, Sarah? What do you think?” Leaves rustled as he walked toward her. “Each day can be a different place. The beach, the mountains, fields of glaciers, an endless winter wood. I can show you all the little hidden places of the world.” She could feel the heat radiating off him which, even in the tropical warmth, was still not too much. Just enough. “Do you like it?”

Sarah stared at the crashing waves and jumped with a little gasp when gloved fingertips touched her chin. “Jareth,” she breathed, meeting his gaze at last. “Is this real? Are we really here?”

“I can only summon forth places I have walked before. Places seared into my memory. I have to be able to recall every sight, sound, smell, taste, and sensation. We call them _aisling_ , Celtic for dream. Do you like it?”

There was an eagerness to his tone, but also a hesitancy. As though he were unsure. _How could he not be?_ She thought. _This is incredible._ “So we can swim in that ocean there?” She pointed to the line of blue and white foam lapping up the white sand beach. “And feel the sun? Can I get a sunburn?”

His smile was wider than she had ever seen it, his canines glinting in the dappled light through the many intersecting branches above. “I’ve rarely utilized an _aisling_ , so I do not know about the sunburn. For the rest of it, yes. These are places for us to enjoy.”

She reached up without thinking, placing her hand over his, fingertips touching down on top of where he still held her chin. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

He cupped her cheek, the motion convulsive. “Sarah.”

Sarah looked at him. Really looked at him. Standing close enough she could brace a hand on his chest if she wanted to, and with an expression—she could not stand that look. Not from him. Not when her stomach was still in knots over the kiss they had shared in the dream.

She pulled back, and his hand fell away. Her bare feet crunched on dead leaves and palm fronds, the insects buzzing and singing. “I’ll just get changed.” She wanted to tug on the hem of her top, wanted to fidget, but she forced herself to stay still except for her careful steps back. Back into reality, into her apartment, and into what used to be a busy New York life. Before the pandemic. Before the lockdown and the quarantine and— _him._

Yet even then, she hated to admit it, but she had looked forward to Jareth’s visits some years. Not because she wanted to trade barbs with an adversary worthy of the task, but because it meant something in her life was still fantastic. Magic. And that same anticipatory flutter was coursing through her now, at the thought of all the places Jareth’s _aisling_ might take them, and she found herself looking forward to it. Looking forward to those days with _him_ , specifically.

She turned on her heel before any of these thoughts could make themselves known on her face, even as Jareth called out after her, his voice soft and suspiciously knowing.

Sarah closed the door to her bedroom and leaned against the sun-warmed wood for a moment before springing into action.

It probably wasn’t the best idea to be around the Goblin King in a bikini, so Sarah dug to the bottom of her dresser and found a vintage style two-piece, black with low hips and a sweetheart neckline like something a golden age Hollywood star would have worn. She had bought it for a friend’s weekend wedding event, where everything was done up like the 1950s. She slipped on a pair of black sandals, wrapped a daisy-patterned sarong around her waist, and grabbed a pair of tinted sunglasses to protect her light eyes.

Jareth was not in sight when she stepped from the hallway and on the spongy, crunchy soil of the jungle. She wandered toward the beach and found him at the edge of the trees, his hands on his hips, staring out at the crashing waves.

“Hey,” Sarah greeted, and something in the set of his body made her want to reach out. To reassure him. Something had shifted, and she was not sure what it was. Or if she should be alarmed.

He looked at her, hands still on his hips, and one side of his lips twitched upward. “Straight to the water? Or sunbathing? Or could I tempt you with a tropical breakfast?” He gestured, and a spread of rare fruits and sweet juices and little pastries appeared atop a table nestled into the sand.

“Swim first, breakfast second, and then sunbathing,” Sarah said. “Priorities.”

They did exactly that. Sarah put the dream kiss out of her mind, and as the day wore on and their agreement became a playful sort of game between them, she forgot her anger from the morning. Under a blazing summer sun, she raced the Goblin King out to the breakwater and back, giving up halfway to shore and treading water, watching him cut through the waves as though he were born to it. There was something strangely feral about him in this environment. The veneer of civilization peeling away in the saltwater and sea air.

After a breakfast that had Sarah longing for a nap, they lay side by side on large towels spread over the fine sand. She closed her eyes, arms behind her head and legs crossed at the ankle. She was drifting on a warm cloud of aching muscles from her swim coupled with the warm sun and a full stomach when she felt cool fingers touch her belly. Not only cool, but _bare_ , free of the gloves worn even as he swam today.

Sarah’s eyes snapped open and Jareth hushed her. “Shh,” he said, cooing the words. “Relax.”

 _God help me_. She did, eyes fluttering closed once more As his fingers splayed open across her abdomen and his palm pressed down.

From that pressure sprung a sensation she struggled to identify. It zinged through her as quick as an electric shock, and then the pressure of his hand was gone, and when she blinked open her eyes she saw him tugging a glove on once again.

“What was that?” She asked.

“How do you feel?” He asked in return.

Sarah did a quick internal assessment and blinked in surprise. “I feel—great. Like I just woke up. Only not hungry. Refreshed.”

Jareth sat with one arm slung over a folded knee, his gaze forward on the eternally crashing waves. She drank in the sight of him. He had changed his clothes, the magic tinging the air with ozone as he worked, changing the loose linen garments for a tight pair of swim trunks and nothing else. The trunks were pure black, to match Sarah’s outfit, and the whiteness of his skin shone like alabaster compared to its inky darkness. She was pale, too, but not like him. His was the brightest moonlight, while she was flat and disinteresting as paper.

“May I see it now?” Jareth asked.

Caught off guard, Sarah stared for a moment. “See what?”

“Your tattoo.”

She rolled to her stomach in answer, pulling her hair away from her right shoulder. “You may have to move the strap to see it all.”

Sarah kept her head turned away as she felt his touch on her shoulder blade, and the tug as he moved the thick shoulder strap down her arm. Then his fingertips were tracing the design. “Peach blossoms,” he breathed.

She shuddered at the sound of his voice, and parts deep within her began to warm. Had been warmed already, but now surged with a sudden heat like opening the door to a furnace. She swallowed on a suddenly dry throat. “It seemed fitting.”

“Indeed, precious.” His voice, closer now, did make her shiver this time. She could feel his breath along the top half of her spine. Gooseflesh rose in its wake, and she heard the smile in his voice when he next spoke. “Tell me true, do you want to kiss me now?”

She swallowed again. “Yes.”

“Expand upon that, if you would be so kind.”

Her skin twitched and jumped when a gloved fingertip ran down her spine, starting at the nape of her neck and moving down, until her hips begin to swell, when it stopped. She wanted him to keep going. To reach down and cup her. She ached.

“I’m afraid of you,” she said, her voice a near whisper. She felt Jareth lean even closer, his breath on her ear. She wanted to turn into that breath, to capture the lips that held it, and suck all that heat and vitality into herself. “At the same time, I want you every time I look at you. As soon as we kiss, or touch, the world is obliterated. I’m afraid of wanting you too much. Wanting you enough that I would follow you back to the—I don’t want to live in the underground, Jareth. I don’t want to leave everything I know behind.”

Warm, dry lips pressed against the tattoo, and she felt the movement as he spoke against her skin. “You need leave nothing behind. I would give you everything, Sarah. Tell me your dreams, and I will answer.”

She propped herself up on her arms and Jareth pulled away from her, his expression darkening. “How can you ask me that?” She narrowed her eyes and pushed herself to a seated position, resting back on her own feet. They faced each other now, still close enough that he could grab her, that she could grab him, that they could tumble to the ground, devouring. “I’m good at my job. I _enjoy_ my job, and my coworkers, and life here in this city.” She gestured around her, then paused. “You know what I mean. New York.”

His nostrils flared, and he reached out, grasping her wrist. “You think you were meant for that? For mortal banality? You were meant to rule, Sarah. Rule by my side. There is much more to the Labyrinth, much more to _me_ , if you would only look. I think you would see that you would be happier there. Happiest there.”

She tugged at her wrist, but he held fast. “Let go of me.”

“Sarah, please—”

“I said let go of me!” She yanked again, but he had loosened his grip. She fell backward before managing to right herself. Standing, Sarah grabbed for the sarong and tied it around her waist, not looking at him. “You think I belong to you, don’t you?”

“Sarah—”

“Answer the question,” she snarled.

His mouth closed with a click. He said nothing.

Sarah waited for a moment. “You won’t answer?”

He shook his head.

“Fine. I need you to stay away from me. Your task is to find something, _anything_ to do that will keep you away from me for the rest of the day. I don’t care what it is, but find it and do it.”

She turned and made for the jungle, trying to discern the hazy ripple in the air that meant she was close to the doorway back to her hallway. Back to sanity.

 _He’s trying to seduce me with his magic,_ she thought. _But I won’t let him. I won’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies.
> 
> My apologies for not updating last Friday. It was my last day in Kansas City, Missouri, before I got in my car Saturday morning and made the two-day trek to Northern California with my dog and my cat. I was a little busy with the packing and the moving to get much writing and uploading done.
> 
> We're all settled in here in Tracy. It's a lot warmer and a lot drier than what I'm used to, but it's so good to be settled and to be writing again like I've done today and yesterday. It was hard going at first, but I got back into it and finished the chapter before you today.
> 
> I hope you all are well. Thank you, once again, for all the well wishes. You guys rock. xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_Sarah_

_I want to drink you sober_

_I want to feel you_

\- Bitter:Sweet, _Drink You Sober_

**September 23rd, 2002. Day 6 of the quarantine**

Sarah dug into her inbox, scanning the dozens of messages, desperate for any reply to her forum posts about freelance work. One person messaged her about developing a logo for an organic herbal cosmetic company, but when she replied with a price estimate, she heard nothing back from them. She drew several political cartoons and submitted them to local newspapers. They paid between two and eight hundred a pop. She’d gotten one in shortly after college. It hung framed on the wall behind her desk. It was the first of many.

The post office was still working, and Sarah could put the cartoons in the outgoing bin beside the row of gleaming brass mailboxes down in the lobby. The walk down to the maildrop was one of the more peaceful moments of her day. Otherwise, she was always aware of him.

Jareth had not spoken a word to her since yesterday’s debacle on the beach, and this morning she had awoken to her living room set as usual, Jareth on the couch flipping through television channels with a disgusted look on his face. No coffee had been made, and when she got the morning paper and sat down to read it at her desk with her first cup, he did not greet her even as she walked through his line of sight.

 _He’s pouting_.

She busied herself with combing through the forums looking for work, responding to want ads which were becoming fewer and further between as the quarantine wore on.

Around noon, Jareth climbed out the window onto the fire escape and talked with Hector for an hour. She tuned out the conversation until a phrase made her head perk up.

“Insufferable woman.” Sarah pivoted in her office chair, as Jareth continued. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong, Hector. I take her to exotic places. I shower her with gifts, affection, and time, yet she still rebuffs me.”

Sarah caught his eye as he said the last, and he smirked. “Tell them you’re into kidnapping children and see how much he wants to help you,” she grumbled as Hector’s returning voice sounded off from above. Sarah could only catch one word in five, but Jareth was nodding, and his expression turned thoughtful.

She scowled, ready to climb out there with him to defend herself when the phone rang.

Picking it up, she barely said, “Williams,” before an excited, deep voice sounded at the other end of the crackling line. “Sarah! Sarah, it’s me!”

She grinned and looked at the calendar on the wall. She had forgotten what day it was. “Hey, Toby. How’s St. Petersburg?”

Jareth’s head snapped over to Sarah when she said Toby’s name, something raptor-like in his expression. Sarah stood and walked away from the window, though she was unsure how much distance she’d need before Jareth’s excellent hearing would stop picking her up.

“Alexei and I went on a walk today with his dog, and we almost got arrested!”

“What?” Sarah exclaimed, stopping in her tracks.

“It was so cool,” he laughed. “They were shouting and waving batons at us and everything.”

“Toby, this isn’t a joke. You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Oh, chill out, sis. Alexei pretended to be a dumb American like me. You should have been there. It was hilarious. His accent is horrible.”

Sarah ran her free hand over her face. “Please don’t do that again, Toby. Stay inside. Don’t antagonize the police. I’ve seen the news. I know kids aren’t let out on their own.”

There was a strangled huff on the other end of the line. “I’m almost eighteen!”

The phone was plucked from her hand before she could say more. She cried out and whirled, knocking straight into the Goblin King. Earth and ozone infused her breath, and she let out an involuntary, shuddering sigh. Momentarily stunned, she stood there as Jareth said, “Hello, Tobias. Remember me? From your dreams?”

Cold washed down her back, and all her muscles contracted with the urge to flee or freeze. To do something.

Toby was talking, but Sarah could barely hear his voice, nevertheless his words. Jareth grinned. “Yes, I’m quite real. Do you remember what I told you about Sarah, on your last birthday?”

Her paralysis snapped, and she lunged for the phone, but Jareth easily outmaneuvered her. Not only that, but he didn’t lose his breath as she pursued him through the apartment, and he blocked her every strike with the grace of a dancer. She could admire him even over the roaring in her ears and the heat in her blood. He continued talking to Toby, answering the teenager’s questions. She shook herself a bit and refocused on the phone, panting as she took a swipe for it, and he ducked. Sarah was ready with an upraised knee, but he rolled his body away in a motion that seemed to defy the laws of physics.

“Tobias, I need you to tell your sister what you told me that night in your dream.” He stopped moving and thrust the phone at Sarah. She leaped back a few feet once she had it safely in hand and put the receiver to her ear.

“Toby? Toby, who do you think—”

“I’ve always known you wished me away,” her brother whispered on the other end of the line. But the words may as well have been javelins for how they seemed to pierce through her skull. “I’ve known since I was five. I read your diary when you were away at college. The one you hid under the bed. I went under there one day playing hide and seek with mom, and I found it all covered in dust bunnies and with the lock broken. So I read it. I kept it in my room for two years, reading and re-reading everything in it. It was only half full, but I was only five. It was kind of how I learned to read in the first place. You taught me that, I guess.” He let out a hollow laugh, and Sarah’s face felt numb, her mouth open but no sound coming out.

Jareth moved away from her, entering the kitchen. From the sound of it, he was brewing a pot of coffee. Sarah glared at his back and turned down the hall and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“So when Jareth showed up in my dreams,” Toby continued. “I knew who he was. He said that I had invited him in, because I knew of him from your diary. I knew him enough to use his name. And he’s been cool. I mean, he dresses and talks funny, but he’s alright.” He paused. “Sarah? He told me on my last birthday that you had almost gone to the underground with him once. But when I called, you told him you couldn’t.”

“Toby,” Sarah’s voice was strangled-sounding, as though she had not spoken in days. “I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay, sis. God damn it, I wish I were there.”

“Language,” Sarah said by rote, sinking onto the corner of her bed.

“Oh, lay off,” he laughed, and warmth sparked in her chest for the first time since Jareth had taken the phone from her. He stopped after a moment, though, and his voice became serious and quiet once more. “If that was him, and I’m pretty sure it was because his voice is very distinct, then he asked me to tell you something.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything, Toby, you don’t need to listen to him,” she said in a rush. “Please.”

“It’s okay. I want to tell you.” He sighed, the sound making the crackling line sound like television static. “I told him you wouldn’t say no because of me, but you would say no because you were afraid. I told him—I said you have always been a little afraid.”

Sarah blinked, surprised, and had a sudden plunging feeling in her stomach. “Afraid?”

“Yeah,” Toby stammered. “You know, afraid of getting too close to people. Afraid of upsetting dad. You’re still a badass, don’t get me wrong, but you’ve taken the easy way out a lot.”

“It’s not so easy as that,” she snapped, thinking of the acting she wanted to do once, and the set designing she landed on a little later. But they were paid so little unless they worked on the big Broadway productions, and even then, she would make more As a mid-level at her current job. It made no economic sense. “Adults have a lot of other things they need to take into consideration.”

“Sarah,” he groaned. “Don’t get all high and mighty on me. You know as well as I do that you gave up.”

“Hey!” She started, rising, but then stopped herself, catching sight of her figure in the dresser mirror. She wore yoga pants and a tank top with a crochet knit cardigan. There was a single, faint crease under each eye—signs of weariness that had grown deeper over the years.

“Sis, don’t be mad,” Toby whined on the other line. There was a commotion in the background and a sharp sound of static, and then he got back on. “Shit, I got to go. My alarm went off; this is all the international long distance I can afford. I love you!”

“I love you, too,” she said, the words automatic, but the phone had gone dead.

Sarah clicked off the receiver and dropped the cordless on her bed, grabbing fistfuls of her hair.

 _Jareth has been in Toby’s dreams for over ten years_ , she thought. _Like he was in my dream night before last._

Jareth.

She looked to her closed bedroom door, and her blood rushed in her veins, much like it had when she was trying to get the phone back from the Goblin King. She strode over to the door, flung it open, and stomped into the living area.

Jareth was coming out of the kitchen, a mug of coffee in hand. Sarah noticed it had cream in it, as she liked. When Jareth drank coffee, he took it black. That small detail didn’t stop her, however. She came within striking distance of the fae, meeting his laughing eyes and his smug smile, and slapped him across the face.

Utter silence descended. Jareth’s head was cocked a little to the side from the force of her blow, and she stood near him, chest heaving, waiting with a thundering heart to see what would happen next.

He blinked, the movement slow, and set down the mug of coffee on the countertop by his side. Then his eyes leaped to hers, and he bared his teeth in a snarl.

Sarah yelped when gloved hands gripped her upper arms and pushed her back. Back, through the hallway, and then she was against the wall, shocked from the slight impact. She brought her fists up, intent on striking out, but he snapped up each of her wrists, one in each hand, pressing them to the grey wallpaper above her head. Sarah raised a knee, aiming for his crotch, but he sidestepped her quickly while not letting off an inch of pressure on her wrists. And as she overextended her leg trying to get to him, he used her misbalance to step between her legs, settling himself there, his entire body flush against hers.

After a quick gasp, Sarah went still, her only movement that of her chest as she breathed. She could smell him everywhere. Earth and ozone and something else she could not quite put her finger on. Something that reminded her of the Labyrinth itself—the actual moving, shifting structure—and it made her wonder how deep the bond went between the ruler and the land.

His hair tickled her face as he lowered his head, the tip of his nose brushing against the shell of her ear. “You struck me,” he breathed.

She suppressed the urge to shiver. Goosebumps rose unbidden and erupted down her arms and shoulders. She caught his gaze shifting downward. Swallowing on a dry throat, tongue flicking out to lick her lips, Sarah said in a calm voice, “You’ve been in Toby’s dreams. Like you were in mine. I didn’t have to kiss you, did I? The bargain isn’t binding in dreams?”

He laughed, and his whole body moved with it. “Clever, precious. No, the bargain is not binding in dreams, but I had to kiss you. You lied to me. I was owed.”

Something throbbed against her inner thigh, and Sarah squirmed as she recognized it. This was exciting to him and, if she were honest with herself, it was exciting her as well. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to get away or if she was trying to get that pressure closer to other parts of her. Hungry parts.

He hissed, and one hand dropped to her leg, hitching it up over his hip, and she gasped anew when that length was pressed just so. Her eyelids fluttered closed as he pinned her to the wall, a rumble coming from his chest. He was so warm it made her limbs feel like jelly.

“Jareth,” she sighed. “Please—”

“Be careful what you say, precious,” he said, his voice thick with lust and laced with warning. “Give me even the slightest ray of hope, and I—I want to magic our clothes away. I want to take you right here. I know you’re ready for me, aren’t you, Sarah?” His breath was back in her ear, and he sucked the lobe into his mouth, biting down on just this side of too much. She shuddered, and he continued, “I can smell you. Tell me you want me, and I’m yours.”

She opened her mouth, but his fell to her collar, releasing her other wrist so that he could sweep aside the edge of the cardigan. She had to swallow her moan, body shaking with fury turned to sharp need.

“I’ll allow this one strike,” he continued, still running his lips between her collar bone and her ear, occasionally nipping a little at her skin. “For there is much history between us, and I know I did not always behave in a way you understood to be—well, in a way that befits a suitor. But let that be all, my Sarah. Bury this animosity you carry. Your brother understands. Forgives. There is no bad guy here.”

Sarah gripped his shoulders, fingers balling the fabric of his billowy shirt. “Jareth, I—”

His mouth skimmed down to the top of her right breast, and he bit down hard, causing her to moan and arch her back. He made a satisfied little rumbling sound and started to move still lower.

“Jareth!” Sarah cried as his mouth closed over the thin fabric of her shirt and lace of her bra, taking her nipple into his mouth. “Please, I can’t have sex with you.”

He pulled away, the movement screaming his reluctance, and caught her gaze in his mismatched one. Expression dark, he brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “What would you have of me, Sarah?”

She licked her lips but stayed silent.

His thumb traced the seam of her mouth, the fine linen of the gloves soft against the thin skin there. “Are you refusing to answer?” He whispered.

She remained silent.

“I want you to come after me for this one.” He stood, head lifted, several inches taller than her. Sarah huffed and tightened her grip on the Goblin King’s hip, then bracing herself on his shoulders before pushing off with her other foot, lifting herself enough that she was level with his face and held by her three points of contact. Jareth looked amused. Again. Sarah frowned at him. “What’s so funny?”

“I heard no protest,” he said.

Sarah paused for half a heartbeat, then scowled. “Why, when we know how this will go?”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

She huffed, arms shaking a little as she shifted her weight again.

“Here,” he said, gripping her bottom. “Put your weight on me.”

She did, and Jareth did not bat an eye, his fingers tracing patterns near the apex of her thighs. Sarah wriggled, and he chuckled. “You give all the signs of wanting me, Sarah, I can see your need. Why deny yourself this way?”

She bit her bottom lip, trying to stay still, but his ever-moving fingers made her want to rock against him, to lower down a little, so she could feel the hard press of him through her thin yoga pants. She wanted to keep begging him, a ‘please’ dying on her lips before it could be uttered. _What’s wrong with me? It’s not like it’s been forever—it’s only been a few months!_

Yet there was something about the Goblin King in particular that made her this way. She had felt a flare of this all those years ago when she had almost gone with him, when they had kissed for the first time. She had wanted nothing more at that moment than to be joined with him. To feel him move within her, to ride him.

She still had to kiss him, and even had to answer him. Answer, or grant him a second kiss. The thought, tantalizing, was soon set aside. “Because I don’t want to go to the underground,” she said. “I don’t want to be your queen. I don’t want all those people relying on me.”

His eyes, hooded, regarded her. “Relying on you?”

“Yes,” she stifled a small moan as his fingers stopped their gentle explorations and patterns. “And I won’t be seen as some conquest. You conquered the one who conquered the Labyrinth. Something like that.”

He scoffed. “You know so little.”

“Then teach me,” she challenged, raising her chin. “You’re always eluding to things I do not know or do not understand. We’re stuck together. Tell me.”

The Goblin King still did not appear strained or winded even though he supported the bulk of her weight. “I will,” he said, his voice soft. “If you will listen, I will tell you everything.”

“Good.” She leaned forward and caught his lips with hers. She softened and slowed the kiss, drawing it out as she licked the seam of his lips, darting in to taste him as soon as he opened for her. His tongue met hers, and they both took in a deep lungful of breath as they stroked at one another.

One of Jareth’s hands left her bottom, skimming up her ribs before cupping her breast, rolling one peaked nipple between two fingers. Sarah moaned into the kiss, unashamed, and broke it only when Jareth lifted her cardigan and tank off, and then she was back at it, breathing him in like he was the sweetest oxygen after minutes underwater. He popped the clasp on the front of her bra, and then the heated gloves were on her bare flesh. She was whimpering into his mouth, her hands laced behind his head, gripping him, pulling him closer still.

“Say yes,” he was saying, the voice like a rasp between devouring kisses. “Say yes, you precious thing.”

Sarah chased his lips, trying to swallow his words, but he pulled back.

“Let me touch you,” he breathed.

Heart hammering, Sarah felt his words catch up to her. _You precious thing._ Cold flash-froze her skin, and her eyes widened as she came back into herself. Came back to find herself naked from the waist up, a bra dangling from her shoulders, the Goblin King’s hands upon her rear and her breast, his lips swollen with her kisses.

Twenty seconds ago, none of that mattered, but now? Now, she remembered every predatory look. Every stalking footstep and dark gaze. Precious thing.

_Thing._

She unclamped her hands from around his neck and wriggled out of his grasp, sliding down the wall and sidestepping his outstretched hand. “You think I belong to you,” she said, for the second day in a row. She redid the clasp of her bra. “God damn it, Jareth, I—it wouldn’t be so hard if you realized that I wasn’t yours.”

“You can’t deny the pull.” He murmured.

“I can’t. I won’t. I want—I know I’m attracted to you. Hell, spending quarantine rolling around in the sack sounds like a lot of fun, but you would take it too far. You think you’re going to possess me, but you never will, don’t you see? You don’t have that kind of power over me.”

He flinched, and his gaze turned hard. He took a step toward her and raised his left hand, peeling off the glove. “Yet, you’re allowed to have power over me?” He snarled. “You would take, but never give? That is what you would have of me?”

“W-what—” she started, and her gaze landed on his hand. “Is that a tattoo?”

On Jareth’s left hand, across the back, was a circular impression of a labyrinth. Not the Labyrinth, but a facsimile. She had seen it representing the Labyrinth on some older texts she was able to get her hands on when researching what the fae were. But the path leading out of it drew toward and looped around his middle finger. Like a ring.

“The Labyrinth chose you,” he growled. “And because I’m bonded to it, that made you my choice as well. Yet I am a fae, and you are mortal. I do not have decades or centuries to woo you. I only have this short mortal lifetime. And you deny me at every turn.”

“I deny your ownership!” Sarah said. “I deny your possession. I am not something for you to win.” Jareth seemed to deflate a little, and Sarah did not hesitate in her sudden desire to place a hand on his chest, near where his medallion rested. “But—I could be with someone, so long as they understood I was not their plaything. Not their toy. That I belong only to myself.”

“Is that the way to your heart?” He asked slowly, then, “Don’t answer. I know you won’t.”

“Yes.”

Jareth’s eyes snapped to her, and she saw the shock in them. “What?”

“Yes, that’s the way. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I—Jareth, I want to trust you. Now, that mark on your hand means what? Speak plainly.”

He flexed his fingers, and Sarah gazed at them. They were longer than what she expected but still decidedly masculine. She shivered when she thought about what the feel of that skin would be like against her own. “It’s a mating bond,” he said, voice soft. “The fae and some other underground species are inflicted with these. You’ve heard of Cupid?”

Sarah scoffed.

“That’s essentially what this is. The fates have chosen that you are the one for me. None other will bear my children or satisfy me ever again. It is only you.” He met her eyes again. “Choice has been stripped from me, Sarah, precious. Now, do you see?”

She hissed in a breath and moved a little closer to him, still with her hand on his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?” He accused. “You were always so quick to see the darkness. You wanted your world simple, your villain evil to your pure. Though that’s not the way of things now, is it, precious?”

“Stop calling me that,” she whispered.

He grinned and stepped away, moving with a sweeping bow toward the living area. “Your coffee is getting cold.”

Sarah moved toward him, wanting to say more, not ready for this conversation to end, but Jareth strode through the living room, and as he did, it rippled and changed. Another _aisling_ taking over. This was also the sea, but instead of the peaceful cobalt waves, it was a crashing, stormy gray and rocky shore. Jareth tore off his shirt and magicked away his boots, never breaking stride until he dove below a crashing wave, not surfacing for a full twenty feet out.

She shivered as the cold breeze pricked her bare skin, and turned back into the hallway, picking up her clothes as she went before shutting the door of her bedroom behind her, shutting out all but the softest sounds of the pounding surf.

She could feel the ghost of his hands upon her, and she wanted to turn back, to wait for him at the shore, and demand he finish what he started. He would do it. She knew he would.

And then what? She asked herself, picturing Jareth the day after, crowing over his conquest. It was how she always imagined it.

Except for this time time, there was another image fighting for dominance in her mind. One in which he woke her with sweet kisses, and they lazed about, discovering each other’s bodies, and only stopping to rest or replenish. She could imagine a drowsy few days with him, at least, and then—then, there could be something more. There was the barest hint of it like the edge of a sharp blade.

 _He’s getting to me,_ she thought. Not his kisses or his words so much as his actions. Unlike so many of the men she had been with, he was invigorating. Every time she spoke with him, it excited her on one level or another. The need to swim to get away from her, as though she had burned him up so much that only the ice-cold waters of the Slavic sea could return him to normal. She had done that to him. Her, and only her. And that power was an intoxicant.

It hit her like a brick to the chest. _I want him._

She wanted him so much it hurt, standing by her bed with her discarded clothes in her hand. She couldn’t bear to put them on or to find a replacement. Not yet. She still wanted to trace the edges of her bra and the places where his hands had been, so warm they were like brands.

She wondered what it would be like without the gloves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is late. A thousand apologies. I have no excuse except that it's hot and I'm a whiny little baby who is used to her air conditioning. It's throwing me off. The good news is that I'm getting an A/C for my bedroom/office. The bad news is that I have no idea how soon that will be, and here in the central valley it is starting to get HOT.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_Jareth_

**September 24th, 2002. Day 7 of the quarantine**

One week.

With a little more than three to go before the quarantine would be lifted, there was much he wished to have happen. Sarah’s words from the night before haunted him.

_Spending quarantine rolling around in the sack sounds like a lot of fun, but you would take it too far._

_Jareth, I want to trust you._

While he swam in the subarctic sea, he had heard those words over and over, chasing him. He swam until his whole body was shaking with fatigue and, with a thought, pulled the _aisling_ apart, depositing him in Sarah’s living room. She had retreated to her chamber. He could hear her through the walls.

He had spent the rest of the day in an exhausted slumber, rising in the first hours of the morning to find Sarah in the same condition.

Now, she was beginning to wake, though he could feel her trying to stay in the comforting warmth of her dream. He felt it, when she dreamed, like a caress of fur against his cheek. When he had chased that sensation the other night she had finally let him in. After years, she had finally granted him access. He had heard her words like the softest of whispers. _Jareth._

How he had wanted to use that access more than he had. To turn the dream into a seduction. To pour power into her, enflaming her desire and stoking her lust. He could taste it on her when she kissed him. She wanted him. Even the first clumsy, rough kiss had said so much. He could have had her, in that dream, yet something held him back. Kept him invested in letting her set the pace.

 _I want her to come to me_ , he realized as he watched the sun rise over the deserted streets. _I have been in pursuit for so long, it would be nice to feel the same from her._ He flexed the fingers of his left hand, where the mating brand was tattooed across his skin. It chafed, that bond. He wanted to tear it off his skin. He wanted to go back to a time when he had never known the name Sarah Williams.

At the same time, there was a part of him that was infinitely grateful it was her. She was a flame in the dark. She was hope.

Jareth walked away from the windows and began preparing their breakfast. Sarah was stirring now, and would soon be up and ready for her coffee. He set the machine to brew while he made a three berry sauce to go atop the pancakes cooking away on her griddle.

Sarah’s door opened, and she padded in through the hall, legs bare and an oversized t-shirt on over her shorts. Rubbing her eyes, she lifted her nose as she entered the kitchen. “I smell coffee and—wow, what is that? It smells amazing.”

“Pancakes with a berry sauce. They’ll be ready in another five minutes. May I pour you a cup of coffee? I don’t want you in the kitchen.”

Sarah blinked and took a few steps back. “Sorry, yeah, that would be nice thank you.” She rounded the corner and sat at the bar near the sink instead, forearms resting on the countertop. He could see her watching him from out of the corner of his eye as he quickly prepared her coffee the way she enjoyed and slid the mug toward her. “Thank you,” she said again.

Jareth smiled but said nothing more, finishing his work with the food with a quiet efficiency of someone used to working in the kitchens. And he did. Cooking relaxed him. It was a strange habit for a fae, he knew, and yet making something so brief and complex always captivated his attention. Sarah, for the most part, allowed him free rein.

He handed Sarah the flatware and dishes needed. She took everything and set it up correctly as the last of the pancakes finished cooking. His slid a stack of them onto the counter along with a glass pourer of the wild berry sauce.

“This looks amazing,” Sarah said as he rounded the corner to join her.

Jareth looked her over as she helped herself, pouring a liberal amount of the burgundy sauce on her steaming pancakes. He did much the same, watching her as they ate. She made a few small sounds of pleasure as she did, and shot him a smile.

Her meal was near complete. Her shoulders were relaxed, her posture open and trusting.

“I wish to court you.”

Sarah choked, covering her mouth with a cloth napkin as she hunched over her plate. Eyes watering, a crease formed between her brows as she sputtered. “ _What_?”

Jareth was torn between laughing at her and attempting to help her somehow. His smile was sharp. “I want there to be no question between us—I want to court you. And I think you want that, too. Or did I misread it when you were moaning into my mouth?”

Sarah’s cheeks flamed a sudden deep crimson.

 _Got you now,_ he thought.

“I didn’t mean, of _course_ I was acting like that you were—”

“Kissing you? Being kissed by you? Believe me, precious, I know the difference between someone who is kissing because they are obligated to, versus someone kissing because they _want_ to.” He kept himself away from her, not even letting their knees touch though they were so close. “You admitted it last night. You want me. So, let me show you how a Goblin King treats someone high in his affections.” He canted his head to the side while Sarah continued to ogle him, the last of her breakfast forgotten. “Do you accept?”

“Accept?”

He leveled his mismatched gaze on her. “Yes. Do you accept my courtship?”

“I—wow. Hold on a minute. I need to understand. What does this mean? I know the fae are tricky bastards, so—”

He bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt not to snarl. His words were clipped, instead. “Must you always see the worst in what I present to you? I am not asking for your body, or your love, or your devotion. I am not asking you to fear me, love me, do as I say,” he said the last words with a mocking cadence. “Simply asking that you be _open_ to my advances. You run away, Sarah. Run away when I need you staying put.”

“You’re asking me to give in.”

“I’m asking you to be open,” he repeated. “Stop assuming every time I reach for you, I’m intending you some kind of harm. I will be blunt—I do not love you. But I do care for you, and want to know you more than these years of fleeting meetings have allowed. What I have seen of you in the last week has…” he swallowed and looked away from her curious gaze. “I wish to know you better.”

“So you can take me underground. So you’ll have an heir, and a queen.”

He looked at her once more. Her mouth was set in a grim line. “Eventually, I hope for that, yes. I will never deny it. But I am hesitant too, my Sarah. This,” he lifted his left hand, though it remained gloved. “Binds me. I know you had no say in it, but I must abide.” He softened his voice. “In many ways I’m glad that it’s you. Especially as I get to know you on deeper levels. This has all been fairly surface-level conversation and depth so far but you must see.” He wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t want to be the one who broke that barrier first. “You must see that there is potential here. Do you deny it?”

“No,” she breathed. Her gaze remained fixed on him. “I can’t.”

“Then what are you afraid of?” He put the weight of their bargain behind the words, hungry for the answer.

She swallowed visibly. “Is this because of what Toby told you? That I was afraid?”

“Yes,” he said.

Sarah glanced away, fiddling with her fork. “I’m afraid because—I’ve told you before. Because when I’m with you I lose my mind. I forget myself. And I don’t want to live in the underground. I don’t want _subjects_. Every time I’ve envisioned my future, I’ve been here. Not here-here like this apartment, but in this world. My world. Yet, when I’m with you...” she trailed off for a moment, and he let her have her silence. She bit her bottom lip before continuing. “When I’m with you, I want to be _with_ you. When we kiss, I want more.”

“That could be arranged.”

She shot him a look. “I know you’re willing—”

“I certainly am.”

“—but I still have misgivings.” She flushed again, catching his eyes.

He smiled. “So accept my courtship, Sarah. We’ll progress at the pace you’re most comfortable with. Just— _accept_ me.”

“But what does that _mean_?”

He turned so he faced her full on. He lifted his left hand toward her, suspending it in the air between them. “Take my hand, Sarah.”

He saw her hesitation, but after a pregnant pause she placed her smaller hand in his. “What are you doing?”

Closing his fingers over hers, Jareth gave a brief squeeze. “Take off my glove.”

Again that hesitation, but she did as he asked, setting the glove down on the counter between their plates. The tattoo looked stark in the early morning light. She placed her hand back in his without being asked.

“Close your eyes.”

She narrowed them first, but did what he asked, tension back in her shoulders and the set of her chin.

Jareth let his magic unfurl. Soft at first, and then a greater push, he let it wash over her through the connection of their fingers. He knew the sensation, to her, would be like phantom fingers running along her skin. Like the softest brush of silk. Indeed, while he watched, gooseflesh rose along her arms and legs, and her eyelids fluttered open as her mouth parted in a gasp.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you feel some of the magic of this bond,” he murmured. “Pleasant, isn’t it?”

“It—” she gulped air as he let more wash over her. “Is it always like this?”

He ran his thumbnail along the inside of her wrist. “It could be. Let me in, Sarah. Give a little. I ask that you trust I am not trying to _conquer the conqueror_ , as you so eloquently put it. I just want to know you, and for you to accept me. Just accept me.”

She closed her eyes again, and through her wrist he could feel her pulse. He knew fright was not the only emotion she wrestled with. Her chest rose and fell with her breath, and beneath the thin fabric of her sleep shirt he could see her nipples harden. She opened her eyes, green orbs luminous. “Okay,” she breathed. “I accept. I’ll try.”

Jareth smiled and withdrew his hand from hers, noting a hint of reluctance as he did. “Thank you, Sarah.”

She let out a huff of breath. “Don’t make me regret it. I feel like I’m in the middle of that children’s book. _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_. You won’t stop, will you?”

“No.”

“Thought not.” She sent him a furtive glance, color rising in her neck and cheeks once more. “What now?”

“Now? How about another movie? I believe you mentioned that my education was missing a few prime examples of human cinematography.”

Relief flashed across her features.

 _You thought I’d demand more_ , he thought. _You may want to trust me but you don’t, still._

Yet when she had selected the movie— _The Seven Samurai_ —she invited him to sit next to her on the couch, and their entwined fingers turned into her head resting against his chest, and his arm thrown about her shoulders.

“You’re so warm,” she murmured. “Fae must burn hotter than humans.”

“We do,” he agreed, voice soft so as not to break the spell that kept her so close. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“No,” she said quickly. “The opposite. I like it. Always have.” Her fingers traced the edges of his talisman, fingertips playing with the sharp points. “Jareth? I—”

Whatever she said he never heard, as the shrill ring of the telephone cut through her words. Jareth swore as Sarah pulled away, reaching for the cordless on the stand next to the couch. “Williams,” she answered on the second ring. There was a slight pause, and then, “What? When?” He could hear another woman’s voice on the other end of the line, and a few of the words she spoke. Hospital. Doctors. Heart attack. His own heart sank. Sarah was trembling. He put a hand on her back.

She spoke with the woman on the other line—her stepmother, he presumed—for a few more moments, listening more than she spoke. When she hung up the phone, she was pale.

“My dad had a heart attack,” she said, and there was a glassy quality to her stare. A stare aimed directly at the opposite wall, containing nothing. “They won’t even let Karen in to see him. She was kept from the ambulance. No one is allowed in to the hospitals who aren’t there on official business. Or aren’t sick.” Her voice was without inflection. “He’s in there, alone, and he’s had a heart attack. The doctors are pushed to the breaking point, so apparently it’s been hours since she was able to get any updates.”

Jareth moved to the edge of the couch and gently ran the back of his fingers down her arm, bringing her attention to him. He summoned a crystal. She flinched a little when it appeared, but then she drew closer, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “One could say that dreams are my specialty,” he said. “If your father sleeps, there may be a way for you to reach him. To see him.”

“How?” Her voice trembled, and he could see that she was on the verge of tears.

If he were more like his brethren, he would have her. He could taste her desperation on the air. Scented it like blood in the water. This was when the fae made their deals. _I will take you to your father, if you will join me in the underground every full moon_ , he could demand. If he could get her there, even temporarily, he could leverage something else to buy more time. And more. Eventually, she would never see the aboveground again.

That was the way it was supposed to be done. It was tradition.

Instead, he handed the crystal to her. “Hold this and think on your father. If he sleeps, we will see his dreams. From there it is simple enough for me to cast us into the dreaming.”

“Cast us?” She held the sphere delicately between both hands, cradling it. Her eyes lifted to his, green and shining with unshed tears.

He wanted those tears to fall, so he could drink them with his lips. “I am not allowed to leave your home while the quarantine remains in effect,” he said. “But I can transport a part of our conscious minds into your father. I will need to go with you, so I can pull you back. Our bodies will remain here, asleep. It’s much like what I did to reach you when you dreamed.”

She licked her lips and looked down at the crystal once more. “Okay.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. The orb in her hand darkened, no longer reflecting the surrounding light. When she opened her eyes she frowned at it. “It’s just—black.”

“He is asleep, but not in a full dreaming. We can still reach him, but he will be more likely to recall the events. There may be some difficult questions for you to answer later.” He warned, leaning closer, so he could study the crystal. “You would have to explain me.”

“I want to see him,” she said. “Please.”

Again, that instinct. That pull to drag from her some promise. He had the one bargain to tie him to her, but the more bargains there were, the more likely it was he could possess her.

 _You would take it too far_.

Her words reminded him that this was not the way he wanted to go. He had asked for her acceptance, and he would prove that her faith was not ill-placed. For all that Sarah saw him as the villain to her heroine, he had never wished to harm her. Not since he had first caught a glimpse of the howling depth of pain within her. A pain he wished to soothe, as he had long come to soothe his own.

“Lay down,” he instructed. “And keep hold of the crystal. I’ll send you first, but I will follow close behind.”

She did as he asked, stretching out on the couch without complaint or hesitation. She clutched the crystal in both hands as he rose and knelt by her head, reaching out and putting a hand over her temple. “Do I need to do anything?” She asked.

“Relax.”

Her eyes slid shut, and Jareth treasured that moment. Here, in its purest form, was the reason he could not extract more promises and bargains from her. Why he could not prey upon her as his kind was known to prey upon mortals. Sarah’s trust, little enough though it was, was nothing short of miraculous.

He placed his hand on the crown of her head, closed his eyes for a moment, and sent her consciousness toward the beckoning pulse from the crystal. Settling into a more comfortable position, he followed a moment after.

Sliding into a mind was similar, in Jareth’s opinion, as dressing in clothes not your own. Things pinched and tugged in areas they normally wouldn’t, and something felt _off_ about the world. A queasy uneasiness that was difficult to shake.

It was dark. Above, below, around. He stood beside Sarah, hand out to aid her as she oriented herself in the dimness. There was light, but its source was difficult to ascertain. “Steady, precious,” he murmured. “Your father is this way.”

Sarah sent him a look that was difficult to interpret, and they started walking. Soon, appearing out of the gloom, came a figure. He was tall, but his shoulders were stooped, and he listed to one side.

“Dad?” Sarah called when he came in sight. “Daddy?”

She ran for him, and soon the other mortal was turned around, and Jareth could see him. He was balding, with thin wired glasses and an open, concerned expression on his face. “Sarah? What? How are you here? I’m asleep, I think. Aren’t I?”

Sarah clasped his hands as Jareth drew nearer. “Yes, you’re asleep. I had to come see you, and Jareth—”

“Who’s this?” He interrupted, eyes leaping to Jareth’s. He moved to pull Sarah behind him. “Who are you?”

Sarah resisted her father’s attempts. “Dad stop it. This is Jareth. I’ll explain in a moment.” She raised their joined hands. “Are you okay? Do you know? Karen told me you had a heart attack but the doctors won’t let her see you.”

“Are you _here_?” Robert asked. “And this is a dream?”

Sarah smiled a little. “You’re catching on quick. Yes, it’s me. Today is September twenty-fourth. We’re a week into quarantine. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, then grimaced and pulled his hands from Sarah’s. “That’s not entirely true. My whole body hurts and my chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself, but the doctor said that’s usual after what happened.”

“But you’ll be okay?”

Robert smiled and patted her on the cheek. “I’ll be fine. They said I was very lucky. Now, who is this man?”

Jareth, having stayed silent and off to the side while the two had their moment, swept into a shallow bow. “I am Jareth, King of the Goblins, lord of dreams and master of illusion.”

The man blinked for a moment and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Robert Williams. Attorney at law for Hamilton and Roe.”

“Dad, you’re retired. And you’re taking this remarkably well,” Sarah said.

“The real test will be after he wakes up,” Jareth replied. “Will you recognize this for what it was? Or will you deny everything, as mortals often do?”

Robert drew himself up and took a step toward Jareth. “Mortal, eh? What’s the meaning of that? What, you’re—you’re _not_ mortal, so you’re...” he trailed off, brow furrowing.

“Immortal, yes,” Jareth murmured. “ _A-_ mortal, if it matters, which it doesn’t. I’m difficult to kill, but time will not take me on its own. And yes, that does make you and I quite different.”

The step Robert had taken toward him was taken back. “W-what do you want?”

“Dad, it’s okay,” Sarah said, reaching out and touching his arm. “Don’t let him scare you, he’s a bully sometimes.” She shot Jareth a look, but he kept his gaze locked on Robert. He smiled.

“He brought you here? Is that it, is that how you know him?”

“No, I—” she let out a frustrated huff and turned to Jareth. “Do we have enough time for me to tell him the story?”

Jareth studied the dream, tilting his head to regard it. “This sleep is deep. He will be here for a while.”

Sarah turned back to her father, and began telling him about running the Labyrinth. And to Jareth’s surprise, she left little out, and owned up to the mistakes she made as she traversed his realm. Yet still, Jareth loomed like a specter over her tale. A sinister shadow. He turned away from them both, pacing a ways away. There was little to distinguish one area from the other, except that the further away from Robert he wandered the spongier the ground beneath him became. If he kept going, he would get to the point where he would be sucked down into the recesses of the man’s subconscious. An area where one could do a great deal of damage if they were so inclined.

He turned his feet away, seeking solid ground. By the time he reached the two, he found them both cross-legged on the floor, though Robert stood as soon as Jareth approached. “Sarah told me everything. You’ve been stalking my daughter for long enough. You need to leave her alone.”

“ _Stalking_?” Sarah demanded, rising as well. “Dad, that’s not what this is, it’s—”

Robert scoffed, cutting her off. “I’ve been about in this world a lot longer than you, and I know stalking when I see it. I’ve helped enough wives with their crazy ex-husbands.”

Jareth sneered. “I’m not some cuckolded fool.”

“No, you’re worse,” Robert started toward him, taking several steps before stopping outside what Jareth would consider his personal space. The man was perceptive, Jareth would give him that. “You feel like you have a right to her, like you’re entitled to her. I’ve seen people like you before, and it always ends in pain, mostly for the woman. I won’t let you do that to my daughter, I don’t give a fuck who you are.”

“Dad!” Sarah yelled.

Jareth held up a hand. “It’s alright, Sarah. Your father has a point.” He flexed the fingers of his left hand, the brand seeming to pulse and itch a little. “Sir Williams I am, for the moment, unable to leave your daughters domicile. Furthermore, I am the only one who can return her consciousness to her body at the moment, so I need to stay near her for her own safety.” He paused. “Given I cannot leave, what would be an acceptable treatise we could strike? Your daughter accepted my courtship today, did she tell you?”

“Yes,” Robert said in a growl. “Stockholm syndrome.”

Jareth clicked his tongue. “That’s a stretch.”

“She should never have accepted you as a—”

“Suitor? Perhaps. Yet, she did.”

“You only want her because of that bond!”

How much had Sarah managed to tell the man in so short a time? “There are many reasons why I pursue your daughter. Consider, if you will, what that means. I am a fae. I am a monarch, a master of illusion, and a lord of dreams, yet it is to Sarah I turn my sights. Think of how incredible that makes your daughter. How rare someone like her is.”

“I know damn well how precious my daughter is.”

A smile. “Yes, I’m sure you do.”

“Hello?” Sarah asked, color high on her cheeks. “Still here, in case either of you care.”

Jareth gave glanced at her. “What of you, precious? Do I frighten you? Would you have me leave you alone?”

“What? No!” Sarah said in a rush, and flushed an even deeper shade of red. “I mean, I—you can’t leave the apartment. And you’re _not_ a stalker. Dad, he’s not a stalker.”

Robert grumbled something Jareth couldn’t quite catch, even with his superior hearing. From Sarah’s wrinkled brow, she couldn’t make it out either. He rubbed his chest and made a face. Sarah rushed to him.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Fine. Just—” he waved a hand in dismissal. “Go. I need to rest. _Really_ rest. If I even remember this when I wake up.”

“You will,” Jareth said. “I assure you.”

“ _If_ I remember it, I’m going to call until I get Sarah on the phone and know she’s alright.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said, her voice soft. “I will. I promise.”

“I wish no harm to come to her,” Jareth said.

Robert snorted, shaking his head, and looking away. “Go,” he repeated. “I need to rest.”

Jareth reached for Sarah, and she startled a little when his hand came to rest on her shoulder. “I’ll send you first,” he said. “You won’t be able to wake me.”

“Okay,” she said, and the next moment she was gone.

Robert turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Want to threaten me now that my daughter is gone?”

“No,” Jareth said. “I do not make threats. I state facts.”

“And what are those?”

He took a step forward. “The fact is that your daughter is it for me. I can have no other. It is its own blessing—she is a marvelous woman—but it also is a curse. I cannot have your interference. What will it take to broker a treatise?”

“You talk like she’s a contested piece of property,” Robert spat, face twisted in pain as well as anger. Jareth could feel it, too. The man needed rest, and soon, so he could heal. “ _That_ is where the problem lies.”

Jareth summoned a crystal, letting it dance across the back of his hand to his palm, back and forth, over and over again. “What are your dreams, Robert? I can grant you anything.”

“Not interested.”

“Surely there’s something? Time? Power? Prestige? Name it.”

Robert spat on the ground between them. “Get out. You haven’t heard the last from me, Goblin King. There is nothing you could give me that will make me turn my back on my daughter.”

“I would never ask you to,” Jareth said, voice softening a little. He held the crystal still. “I care for her, too.”

“You think you do.” Robert grasped his shirt over his chest and groaned. “Leave me alone.”

Jareth did, withdrawing from the sleeping mind of the older man and returning to his own body. He blinked his eyes open to find Sarah staring down at him, hands on her hips.

“Why did that take so long? Did you threaten him?”

Jareth sent her an exasperated look. “Must you always think the worst?”

“Answer the questions, Jareth.”

“It took so long because I wanted to talk to him. I did not threaten him.” He rose, brushing at his leather vest and tight trousers.

Sarah stepped forward, and unlike her father she slid passed his barrier of personal space and kept coming, until she was close enough that she could place a hand on his chest, near the symbol of his power. “Thank you,” she said. “I know it turned into something of a drama fest there at the end, but it was good to see him. Talk to him. He’s going to be okay.”

Jareth’s hand covered hers. “Yes. He will be.”

She slid toward him another half step, biting her lower lip. He watched the movement with a hunger that roared through him. Gods, he wanted her. He would wait if he needed to. He would court her and ensure he was playing by her rules, but a part of him wanted nothing more than to possess her. To know she belonged to him, body and soul.

His fingers twitched. She turned the hand that lay beneath his and grasped his fingers. He did not understand what she was doing for a moment, until the glove started to slide off. He began to protest, but as soon as the air touched the exposed skin of his palm, so did her lips. Sucking in a breath, Jareth grasped her waist with his left hand and pulled her tighter against him.

Sarah made a low sound and lifted her head, eyes half-closed, and she raised up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

Jareth felt the force of the kiss like a shockwave. The very first she had ever given him, freely.

The one time they had kissed all those years ago, he had started. Every other time had been because of the conditions of their bargain. But this?

Her hand slipped under his hair to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as her tongue darted out to taste him. He could not help a slight smile as she pushed him back gently. He fell onto the couch and their contact was broken for a brief moment before she straddled him, finding his mouth once again with a sigh, her body settling against him.

Hands falling to her waist, Jareth felt his body respond to her nearness. Her warmth. The beguiling scent of jasmine and almonds. Her dark hair fell in a sheet to shield them from the rest of the apartment, and all was her. Tasting, feeling, touching nothing but Sarah. His Sarah.

She stripped off his other glove, flinging it on the couch, then guided his hands under her shirt.

“What are you doing to me?” He asked in thick voice when she broke the kiss with a gasp. “Sarah—”

“ _Sh_ ,” she put a finger to his lips. “I’ve had a very emotional day, and it only began. I want to make out with this guy I’m seeing, do a little light petting, and _then_ deal with the rest of everything. Sound good?”

He pressed his forehead to hers, smile widening. “Whatever you say, precious.” His hands traveled up her back, and he felt her shudder as goosebumps rose down her arms.

“I’m beginning to be okay with that nickname,” she breathed as he lay open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. “Jareth, _please_...”

He smothered her words with another kiss, and she returned it with abandon. Jareth reveled in the feel of her, skin to skin, pushing a little light magic into his touch so her body came alive with trembles, until she moaned against his lips.

They tangled together, and Jareth lost some sense of time. It seemed to slide forward, liquid and graceful, as her thighs squeezed his waist and her fingers slipped beneath his shirt, sliding up to his shoulders and grasping him tight. He kept his hands away from some of her more interesting places, content to let her set the pace. Content this small miracle was occurring. His adversary. The girl who conquered the Labyrinth, now grown and in his arms.

Right where she was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos or messaged me directly. You all rock my socks off. And thank you to those who poked at me for an update. I know this was a long time coming, but I do present you with one of the longest chapters yet. Hopefully, that'll make up for it.
> 
> I am working under a deadline currently for the second book in my original fiction series. It's due to drop in September, and I still have the last bit of the rough draft to polish off before editing and sending things off to my beta readers. This is to say: I'm terribly busy right now, and this fanfiction may not be updated for some time. You're probably looking at another month, at least unless the bug bites me again.
> 
> Which was another reason this was so late. 31 Days and 32 Nights started as a story worm: "What would happen if Jareth and Sarah were stuck together in quarantine for thirty days?" But that can only lead one so far. I spent some time plotting out where I want this story to go. Now that I have a framework of sorts, writing the next number of chapters should come a little easier.
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who is showing this story so much love. It's been a big mood-booster.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_Sarah_

_If silence can heal_

_I know it can kill_

_I feel its caress_

\- Elizaveta, _Meant_

**September 25th, 2002. Day 8 of the quarantine**

Sarah sat back to back with Jareth on the fire escape, a book propped up against her raised knees. He was flipping through one of her back copies of Bon Appetite!, having gone through all of Cosmo. The cooking magazine was a subscription Karen had signed her up for, hinting over a phone call that, _maybe if you cooked a little more often, you could attract a nice man._

Sarah smirked at the memory and started re-reading the last paragraph of the fantasy novel in her hands. This particular book was a little saucier than what she usually read, and she had to admit certain scenes were of particular interest with the warmth of the Goblin King at her back.

“ _Mio amico!_ ” Cried a voice from above, and when Sarah looked up, she saw the round face of Hector smiling down at them. “My friend, how are you doing? And the lovely Sarah. How are you, my dear?”

“I’m well, Mr. Palermo,” Sarah said. “How are you?”

She felt the movement against her back as Jareth also looked up, shading his eyes. He wore his gloves again.

_I’ll make him take them off later._

If she had thought being touched by him was electrifying when he was gloved, feeling his bare skin against her flesh was in a realm all its own. The image of it in her mind was enough to make her stomach flutter with anticipation. _He’s like a drug._

“ _Buongiorno_ , Hector,” Jareth called. “Are you going to be practicing today?”

“ _Sì_ , Jareth. Any requests?”

“Something lively,” the Goblin King suggested. “It is a beautiful day.”

Hector ducked back inside his apartment, and a few moments later, the first couple chords of Here Comes the Sun drifted out. Sarah hummed along a little, the lyrics coming back to her as the song progressed.

“Will you sing for me, Sarah?”

She closed her eyes. She had sung back in the school choir, and of course, she blasted Alanis Morissett sometimes in the car and belted it out, especially after Patrick. _The prick._

She took a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth, and jumped in with the next set of lyrics.

_“Little darling, I feel the ice is slowly melting_

_Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been clear_

_Here comes the sun_

_Here comes the sun, and I’ll say_

_It’s alright. It’s alright.”_

The piano continued for a little while longer, finishing the song, but even before the last notes ended, people were applauding. She opened her eyes and saw neighbors hanging out their windows, clapping, and whistling and crying out for more.

Sarah laughed, surprised, and a little embarrassed. She was a strong singer, but not the best. Not as good as Jareth had been, when he sang to her in the ballroom. That song still haunted her memories. Still, she was pleased when Jareth turned his head enough to say in her ear, “That was lovely.”

Hector grinned when he next came into view. “We cannot disappoint your audience, lovely Sarah. What next?”

Sarah rose, setting her book down on her windowsill, and thought for a moment. “I’m not sure, what can you play?”

“ _Tiny Dancer_!” Someone shouted from across the street. This was soon echoed by other requests.

They did _Tiny Dancer_ , then _Day Dream Believer_ and _Mrs. Robinson_. Almost all the neighbors joined in on the chorus, and some sung right alongside her. But by the time the fourth song was at its end, Sarah was at her limit and took her bow to a few well-meaning boos and a lot of cheering. Face flaming, she turned to Jareth, smile wide, to find he looked quite serious, his eyes heavy with thought. “What’s wrong?”

He stared at her a moment more, and then stepped aside, so she could get into the apartment. She did, and he slipped in after her, picking up her book off the windowsill. Hector was still pounding away on the piano upstairs, the noise louder through the floor than it had been outside.

Sarah put a hand on Jareth’s arm as soon as they were both standing by her little makeshift office space. “Are you okay?”

He reached up and cupped her cheek, finally smiling, though it was a hesitant, faint thing. Not the broad grins she’d seen over the last few days. “This is one thing I cannot offer you.”

She frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”

He stepped a little closer, and her breath hitched as she brought up her hands to rest against his chest. He still cradled her cheek in one hand, but now he brushed the hand through her hair, and goosebumps erupted down her skin at the sensation. “Of all the treasures in my kingdom,” he said. “Of all the wonders of magic I can show you and all the places we might go, this is a human moment. This spontaneity of camaraderie and community. You might not find that in the underground.”

“Oh,” Sarah breathed.

He pulled away from her touch, looking away.

She stopped him with a hand on the arm, his skin searing through the thin linen of his shirt. “I—Jareth, you come from the underground. And I’m glad you’re here. That we know one another.”

He hesitated before he moved closer to her once more, accepting her reassurance. His eyes searched her face, and what he found there must have meant something for he said, “I will do my best to bring this kind of joy into your life every day, my Sarah.” He reached for her, but she caught his hand, slipping off his glove. The smile he flashed her was satisfied in a way she had never seen before. His bare fingertips touched her face, and heat sizzled at the contact. “There has never been anything so beautiful as your eyes when you turned to look at me out there,” he whispered, closing the distance between them even further. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

Sarah’s breath caught as his fingers scraped against her scalp and gently pulled her hair so her head tilted up toward him, like a flower to the sun. “The part you play in that happiness is not small,” she whispered back. “I hope you know.”

His eyes flashed with something akin to triumph, and for a half a heartbeat, she almost pulled back, her pulse picking up. That look had screamed, _predator!_ , but it was soon smoothed over by such a vulnerable, hopeful expression that she hesitated in her flight. “Do you mean it?” He asked.

“Yes,” she said, the word seeming to tumble from her lips, to spill forth. There was a minute tug on her hair as his grip tightened. “Kiss me, Jareth,” she said. “Please.”

He did, an undisguised look of wonderment flaring before desire took its place. He pressed lips to hers, teasing her mouth open with little nibbles and brushes of his tongue. She made an unabashed sound of pleasure when he began to taste her, and then she was working at the buttons of his shirt, spreading her hands over his tight stomach.

Jareth growled, and Sarah felt arousal flare deep within her, eclipsing all other thoughts. She wanted this. More of this. Nothing outside the feel of him seemed to matter, so when he pushed her back onto her oak desk she did not startle or resist. She used the moment their contact broke to divest him of his shirt entirely, her eyes flying down his exposed chest. A flush spread across her face, and she reached for him again, dragging his head down to hers.

“Gods,” she said on a breath between kisses, while his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her neck. “Jareth—”

Jareth had removed his other glove at some point, and his fingers were like brands as he lifted her shirt up over her head. Her bra followed a moment more, a soft snarl the only remark at its passing. Nudging her legs apart, Jareth sank to his knees before her, fingers on the band of her yoga pants.

“Woah,” she said, still breathing hard, her heart thundering. “What are you doing?”

In response, Jareth turned his head and pressed his lips to her inner thigh, caressing the other side of her leg while he massaged and teased at the area, which grew sensitive to his attentions. She started squirming, and he stopped, pulling back. “Take three guesses, precious.” His smile was beautiful. “I want to taste you. All of you.”

Her breathing seemed to stop, and for a long moment, Sarah felt as though she had been struck upside the head. _The Goblin King? Down there?_ The thought of it made pleasant sensations ripple through her, and when his hands went back to the band of her pants, she lifted her butt off the desk to help him.

But as his hands began to slide the fabric down her hips, there was a break in the piano music from overhead. Someone was pounding on the door so loud it shook the walls, making one of her framed pictures go askew. Sarah jumped, and Jareth swore, releasing her and rising as someone shouted, “Police! Open the door!”

“Oh, hell,” Sarah said, scooping her discarded shirt off the floor and pulling it on over her head without bothering with the bra. _It’s not too noticeable,_ she thought in a mild panic. Her heart was going overtime, stimulated not only by her desire but now fear and trepidation. “Coming!” She yelled toward her front door, sliding past Jareth.

Sarah looked through the window on her door before unlocking the chain and the deadbolt, swinging it open. “Officer Salamanca,” she greeted with what she hoped was a pleasant smile. “How can I help you?”

Rico Salamanca touched the tip of his finger to his cap in greeting. “Ms. Williams. The station received a very distressed call by someone claiming to be your father, Robert. He was saying you were in danger from some kind of stalker, and that he couldn’t reach you.”

 _God damn it, dad,_ Sarah thought savagely. _Chewing out the Goblin King is one thing, but falsifying a police report trying and get him arrested is low, especially for a lawyer who knows the risks._ She had to handle this carefully. Mad as she was with her father, she did not want to get him in trouble.

“My phone’s been acting up,” Sarah said, smiling. “Sometimes it works fine, and when it does, they tell me they had a tough time getting through.” She shrugged. “It’s probably because so many people are spending time on the phones right now, what with everything going on.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Officer Salamanca said. “I only remembered you called us on the first night of the quarantine with some concerns of your own regarding a man in this domicile. When your address showed up on our system, I wanted to make sure I was the one to follow up. Is he still here?”

Sarah glanced over her shoulder and saw Jareth silhouetted in the doorway between the hall and the living room. “He is, yes, but it’s okay.”

Rico leaned forward, so he could see Jareth as well, raising a hand to him in greeting. “Good afternoon, sir, how are you?”

“Well, officer,” he replied, padding up behind Sarah. He had thrown on his shirt but not buttoned it, and he had glamoured his features to appear more human. “Has there been some disturbance?”

“I’m only following up on a welfare check,” Officer Salamanca said, his eyes hardening as he looked Jareth over. “You remember our talk?”

“Oh, quite well.”

The police officer’s eyes went to Sarah. “You’re sure that you’re doing okay, miss? Do you still have my card?”

“I do, and I’m sure. My father is being overprotective. I’m so sorry he wasted your time.” She gave him a bright smile. “Was there anything else I could help you with?”

“No, ma’am, and I do apologize for banging on the door so hard. I knocked a few times, but there was no response.”

Sarah felt her face go hot, and she looked away from Rico’s searching gaze. She saw Jareth smirk and wanted to elbow him in the ribs. “It’s not a problem. Enjoy the day and stay safe, officer.”

He raised his finger to his cap again. “Ma’am.”

Sarah shut the door, locking it and turning straight into Jareth’s arms.

“Where were we?” He growled, bare hands plunging into her hair and angling her mouth upward for a kiss. In a moment, he had her against the wall, one hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to cup her breast while the other held her head in place.

Sarah was responding in kind when there was an audible crack! And something screeched from the kitchen.

Jareth went still, her bottom lip trapped between his teeth, his thumb and forefinger so tight on her nipple that she gasped and writhed against him. He let out a sound and pulled back from her, looking over his shoulder. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Who?” Sarah asked.

“Whoever popped into your apartment,” he snarled, starting toward the kitchen, leaving her to scurry after him. They rounded the corner at near the same moment, to plumes of acid-green steam billowing out of some shaking container on the tile floor. It let out another shriek like the one she had heard after the initial noise, and Jareth held out an arm to keep her from moving forward any further. “It’s a messenger box. It’s from another fae.”

“Why is it smoking?”

“It’s acclimating. It had to travel through the between places before it got here. Think of it like one of your space shuttles returning into orbit from a lunar mission.”

“But you don’t smoke when you come here.” Sarah pointed out.

“No, but I have a direct line to you, precious.” He wiggled the fingers of his left hand. “I will always be able to find you.”

She was not sure if the shivers that overcame her at his words were shivers of longing or fear. She took a step back into the hallway. “Well, whatever it is, that is your mess to clean up.”

“Yes,” he ground out, striding forward. His hand hovered over the box—a perfect square, about four feet across. Crawling across its polished wooden surface were various symbols and what looked like runes. As Sarah watched some flared and brightened, as though inset with little lights, before darkening and continuing to flow across the surface. Where Jareth’s hand hovered the symbols burned the most until they were like the glow of a sinking sun. Sarah had to turn her head away, squinting.

Then with a pop that felt like a change in altitude and a strong scent of ozone, the crate opened. All the symbols stopped moving and became carved fixtures, no longer shining. Sarah hesitated for a moment and then moved forward, curiosity compelling her.

At first, she thought the box was empty, and then she saw shining at the very bottom a gilded book, set with what looked like semiprecious stone and the pages edged with even more gold. Jareth reached for it, his motions stiff, his face like granite.

“What is it?” Sarah asked.

“A declaration,” he said, and his voice held a hardness she had never heard before. “Someone has declared war on me.”

“ _What_?” She strode forward, her hand reaching for him, and he took it, his grip tight. “Who?”

He let her go after giving her a brief squeeze and flipped the little latch that held the book closed. Carefully, reverently, he opened it. Within, on the first page, was something written in a language Sarah had never seen before. The script was spidery but had flourishes like lace. When Jareth looked at it, he went still for a moment, and his mouth widened in a grin. He began to laugh, softly and first and then louder, bending over as he continued to chuckle. He snapped the book closed and waved his hand, making the chest vanish.

“It’s my brother. My brother is going to invade the goblin kingdom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I just couldn't help it. Today was all about Jareth and Sarah. I'd plotted out this chapter last week but it wouldn't leave my head today. No guarantees that there will be another update in so short a time, but I thought you all would enjoy this.
> 
> I hope you all are well!
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> -CrimsonSympathy


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_Sarah_

_Don’t leave me here trapped in the underworld_

_Don’t leave me here_

_Don’t let me go_

\- Cypress &; Co., _Underworld_

**September 26th, 2002. Day 9 of the quarantine**

“Sarah, come here.”

She lifted her head, startled. Jareth stood in the doorway to her bedroom, dressed all in black—boots, pants, shirt, and gloves. He had put the gloves back on yesterday after the messenger box came, and hadn’t removed them since. There were even dark streaks in his hair. Not many, but it reminded her of the dance so long ago. That memory, coupled with his stony expression, set her on edge. Her fingers gripped the sides of her book. “What’s wrong?”

His tone was dry. “Aside from trying to fend off an impending attack on my kingdom while stuck in the aboveground? Nothing.”

Sarah put her book down and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She padded over to Jareth on bare feet, trying to ignore the pulse that crept up at the inscrutable look on his face. Ever since the declaration arrived yesterday afternoon, he had been withdrawn, consulting his crystals, and making inquiries into the underground. She had left him alone, cooking a simple dinner of chicken, vegetables, and rice she never saw him eat, though the bowl was rinsed and in the sink this morning when she woke up. No coffee had been waiting for her, and Jareth had barely acknowledged her presence, so absorbed in whatever work he was doing.

He did not move as she approached, and so she stopped a good two feet from him, waiting while he looked her up and down. “We’ll have to do something about the clothes,” he muttered.

“What about my clothes?”

Jareth reached out and took her hand, the contact a shock. It had been over twenty-four hours since he had received the challenge. More than that since she felt his searing kiss and insistent hands. She knew he was preoccupied with the coming attack, but a part of her screamed out for this contact. Wanted it more than she had wanted anything else in her life.

His gloved fingers closed over hers. “You once wanted to be an actress. How far along did you get in your lessons?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Yet I have need of that skill,” he said, pulling her close by their linked hands. She stumbled forward a step, and his other hand came to rest on her waist. “I have need of you.”

There was something intense to his gaze, something she had never seen before, as he spoke those words. “What kind of need?”

“Oh, many and varied,” he said, his voice quiet and his gaze softening as he looked at her. His next words sounded as though he had not meant to speak them out loud. “But how can I think with you so near?”

Sarah contained a smile, sliding a half a step closer. Now there was the heat of his body, and when her hand came to rest on his chest near the pendant, she could feel a soft growl emanate from him. “I’ve been worried about you.” She rolled her eyes up to his. “Tell me how I can help.”

The breath went out of him in a sigh, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, those mismatched irises seemed to swim with intensity. “What I’m going to ask will not be easy,” he murmured. “It may put you in some danger.”

“Tell me what it is,” she said.

The smell of him was strong in the air as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on the line of her jaw. “I need an emissary—someone to speak on my behalf in peace talks. My brother has opened up the lines to negotiation, though he’s primed for battle from all I can glean. There may be no convincing him to turn his army away from the borders of the Goblin Kingdom, but I have to try.”

“Why can’t you be the one to talk to him?”

“Because this needs to be in person, and I am still bound to your domicile.”

Sarah frowned. “But I thought you weren’t able to send me to the underground? Didn’t you try the first night, with the crystal?”

“That is one way to transport someone underground, and yes, that way is barred to me, but there are other ways. Costlier ways.”

“Costlier?”

“It is a price I’m willing to pay. Only I need to know—will you do it? Will you be my emissary? Speak with my voice? Represent the Goblin Kingdom?”

Sarah wondered how much of this was Jareth trying to get her used to ruling, so she had fewer compunctions about moving to the underground permanently. Yet there was no mistaking the need in his voice, or the desperation glinting in the edges of his eyes. “I don’t even know what I would say,” she demurred.

“I will coach you,” he said. “And there is a spell I can work where I can listen in and still speak to you, mind to mind, while you’re in the underground. You won’t be alone.”

Sarah was nodding before he finished speaking. “Okay, just—the telepathic thing isn’t permanent, is it?”

“No, precious.”

She took a deep breath, trembling. There was a part of her that wanted to walk the underground again, to smell the strange magic-scented air and run her fingers along glittering stone and tree branch. Yet, there had been countless nightmares of finding herself in the Labyrinth again and feeling his hot breath on her neck. _Got you at last._ Looking at Jareth now, there was only the faintest specter of the enemy she had feared all these years around the edges of his eyes. She still thought him dangerous, in more ways than one, but she felt she knew him well enough now.

 _But am I only fooling myself?_ She wondered. _I essentially see a tamed Jareth, a domesticated Jareth. Who will he be once quarantine is over?_ Would he revert to the creature who had seemed to taunt and entice her in equal measure? A flutter in her stomach made her realize that the change would not necessarily be bad. Especially knowing what she knew now.

With the memory of his body flush against hers fresh in her mind, Sarah felt her face go warm as she said, “Alright. I’ll do it.”

His smile was full and swift, a moment before he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers in a quick, hard kiss. “Thank you.”

Sarah wanted to chase him when he withdrew, to pull that mouth closer, so she could taste him properly, but she forced herself to swallow the impulse. She stepped back, away from his radiating heat. “What needs to be done?”

Jareth took her hand and led her out of the doorway of her bedroom and into a living room that was much transformed. Instead of the usual tidy clutter, Jareth had created a space much as he had the first night he had arrived. Only instead of a bedroom, this was a command center. Mirrors lined the walls, and inside each was a moving picture, shimmering slightly around the edges where the image met the frame. They were mirrors of every shape and size imaginable. Circular, triangular, crescent moons, and thin rectangles, some only the span of her hand, others large enough that she could see all of herself in them. They lined the walls and crawled up them until they touched the ceiling.

Each mirror showed a similar scene: the Labyrinth, so far as Sarah could tell, the soil glittering in the red sun. There was the firey forest, the bog, courtyards in the center of twisting passages, and the high walls that surrounded the enormous maze. But as her eyes continued to move across each mirror and the image it contained, the focus of that image shifted.

One side of the room was purely the Labyrinth—the goblin city at its heart—but the other showed what Sarah could only guess was a war camp. Hundreds of people filled those mirrors, tall and willowy, with armor that curved away from the body to create sharpened edges and points. As she watched, they sharpened weapons, fletched arrows, and sparred with one another.

Faintly, Sarah could hear the sounds of the Labyrinth and the camp. The cry of a lone eagle, the combined war chant of a dozen soldiers, and more, though the sounds never grew overwhelming. She stood with Jareth in the center of the living room—stripped bare, the walls and floors stone instead of hardwood and plaster—and tried not to gape. “Are these live?”

“Yes. This is the underground—the goblin kingdom—and the forces readying to attack it.” He still had hold of her hand, and he raised it to gesture toward an ornate, heavy gilded frame. “And that—that is my brother. Aldric.” Sarah stepped toward the mirror, but he held her back. “Not yet, love. He knows when he’s being observed. Best to leave the portal open but not use it unless we have to. We can spy on the rest of his troops, however.”

She was having a lot of trouble keeping her eyes averted—and then his words struck her.

_Love._

_It’s an affectation,_ she thought furiously. _The British say it all the time._

But the Goblin King was not British.

She rid herself of that line of thought, instead focusing on her next question. “Do you have any other siblings?”

“None living. Two dead sisters.”

Sarah gasped, and her free hand flew to her throat, her other hand tightening around his. “Both of them?”

Jareth looked away. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Faerie is not a forgiving place, Sarah.”

“What is Faerie?” She had heard of it before, in her studies, but she wanted to hear it from him. Wanted to know firsthand what it was.

He made a small, frustrated sound and pulled her closer, grasping her head and pulling it toward his chest. She could feel as well as hear the thrum of his heart. Gloved hands wove into her hair as his other arm came up to encircle her waist, pinning her to him. The heat that radiated from him was enormous, just this side of too much, and yet she found herself sinking into it—sinking into _him_. “I will tell you everything,” he said in a soft voice. “But I must ask it be later when there is time. Now, we are on the cusp of war, and I am near powerless to stop it.”

She reached up and fisted her hands in his billowy shirt. “Okay. I withdraw my question.” Swallowing on a dry throat, she pushed away from him, so she could look in his mismatched eyes. “But what do you need me to do? And how am I supposed to get there?”

“Through the mirrors,” Jareth said. “My brother is expecting my delegate, though he does not know it will be you. I need you to do a little acting for me.” He released her hands at last and ran both of them through his long hair, ruffling it further. “All Faerie knows of the mortal girl who conquered the Labyrinth and bested the Goblin King. You are well known as my adversary. If it is going to be believable that you are my emissary he must think—” he stopped, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “He must believe that we have been together..”

“ _Been together?_ ” Sarah asked, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“It is more than that,” Jareth said, his tone rushed. “It cannot seem I have conquered you. It is not a broken thing that could be presented to my adversary. No, for you to be taken seriously, you must be able to hold yourself with the bearing of the Goblin Queen. For this, I will be gifting you with some of my powers, to bolster you and help you shine.”

Head spinning, Sarah took a half step back. “Wait a second. This is getting to be a little much, don’t you think? The last time I acted was _years_ ago, Jareth, I’m out of practice.”

A smirk curved his lips, and for another heartbeat, she was reminded of the threatening creature she had met in the depths of the Labyrinth. _You_ _cowered before me. I was frightening._ Those blue and brown eyes flicked down her body and back up. “I have the feeling, dear Sarah,” he purred. “There were plenty of times your acting skills came in handy in recent years. Surely your dear Patrick was not privy to all the secrets of your heart?”

Heat suffused her face, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Jareth was right, damn him, but the intensity of his gaze made her confident he knew _precisely_ where Patrick had been lacking. “Be that as it may, I need you to understand it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this. I may not be who you need.”

“You’re who I need,” Jareth said, his voice soft but intense. “Stand still for a moment.”

The need to fidget arose in her at his words, but she swallowed the impulse and stayed still. Jareth muttered something under his breath and motioned toward her. There was the sensation of pins and needles across her skin, enough to make her shudder, and the Goblin King broke into a grin. “What did you do?” Sarah asked. She looked down at herself, blinked, and looked around for a mirror that could give her a better glimpse of the new outfit.

Jareth made another motion with his gloved hand, and one of the larger mirrors stopped broadcasting its live feed of the Labyrinth. “You look stunning, Sarah, as I knew you would.”

She strode to the mirror and examined herself. The only part of her body that had been left alone was her hair, falling in a long sheet down her back. Kohl rimmed her green eyes, making them pop, and light makeup had been applied to the rest of her face, better than anything she could have done for herself. But what took her breath away were the clothes.

It was as though hundreds of thin, twisting black vines covered her from her left collarbone to her right hip, made of thin pieces of wire. Beneath the intricate latticework were panels of green silk so dark it was almost black. The fabric flared at her hips and fell to mid-thigh, parting in front to expose the softest pair of leather pants Sarah had ever felt. The pants plunged into knee-high boots with a slight heel. At her left shoulder, where the vines culminated, there hung a half-cape of shimmering black and green fabric. She wore no adornments save a light diadem encrusted in black diamonds and emeralds.

“Don’t you think the crown is a little much?” She asked, unable to keep the breathiness from her voice.

He was behind her, and she had not even seen him move. Fingers traced down her bare arms as he held her gaze in the mirror. “You are a wonder. One need only catch a glimpse of you, and they would be ruined.”

Red spread across her cheeks. “You’ve wanted to dress me up for a while, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” he purred, lips falling to her neck. His eyes rolled up so he still held her gaze locked in their reflection. Seeing him like that made her pulse quicken. “Dress you. Undress you. I’ve lingered long in the halls of the imagination, picturing you.” His hot breath coiled against her skin. “Tell me—have you not pictured me over the years? Over the last few days?”

Leaning back against him, she let out a sigh as his lips continued to work against her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh there. “Yes, I’ve thought about you.”

“How?” His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him. “How have you pictured me, Sarah?”

“I don’t think we have time for this,” she gasped as his hand splayed across her stomach, spreading his incredible warmth. “My answer would take too long.”

“ _Mm_ ,” he murmured. “Then, I withdraw my question. For now.”

She let out a little sigh of relief, and then he bit down on the side of her neck. _Hard_. She sucked in a breath, and her back bowed, the pain riding an edge that was as enticing as it was frightening. “Jareth!” She gasped.

He released her, laying a feather of a kiss against the spot he had so abused. “A little additional protection, precious,” he murmured. “Forgive me.”

As Jareth stepped back, she took one forward and examined her neck in the reflection. There were the indents of his teeth, the red darkening as she watched. “What the hell?” She hissed.

“Even as my emissary, and even with a few gifted powers, you are still a mortal that will be up against one of the more dangerous fae there is. This mark will provide additional security to your position, providing you with much needed protection.” He grimaced as she spun on him. “I apologize. I would have asked, I just—I need to make sure you come back safe. I need to know I did everything in my power to keep you out of harm’s way.” He took a step toward her. “If there were _anyone_ else I trusted enough with this, I would have them go in your stead.”

“Why don’t you have someone else?” She snarled.

“Because I don’t know who within my court has betrayed me,” he said in a near-whisper, his voice holding a dangerous edge. The hands at his side balled into fists. “Once I do, they will pay dearly for what they have done.”

Shaking her head, Sarah turned once more to look at the darkening mark on her neck. “I haven’t had a hickey since college,” she grumbled.

“I recall,” he said, that dangerous edge still there.

Sarah turned back to the Goblin King. “What now?”

“Aldric is expecting you soon,” Jareth said, and produced a crystal. “Here.” Making the orb dance across his fingers for a moment, Jareth tossed it at her. “That will be our method of communication and will imbue you with some borrowed powers. Not much, but enough to make you seem formidable.”

Where the sphere had been a moment before, Sarah now held a bracelet of black diamonds and small circular crystals like extreme miniatures of what Jareth had tossed toward her. She slipped it on, smelling ozone as she did. Prickles coursed up her arm, and she shook it as though to dispel water droplets. “That feels weird.”

A sensual voice slid into her mind. _But how does this feel?_

Sarah jumped, eyes wide. “That was—you were—”

 _You can speak to me here. The point is moot if you always reply to me aloud._ Jareth grinned at her.

Her gaze narrowed. _Jackass._

 _There you go, precious, this won’t be too hard._ Aloud, he continued, “I won’t be able to see what you see, but I will be watching from the mirrors.”

“How will I get back?”

“The mirror will follow you at a discrete distance. Step through it, and you’ll be here.”

“If that’s the case, couldn’t your brother step through it as well? What if he comes here?”

“It’s a portal only visible to you. Don’t let him know where it is, though, or he may attempt to close it.”

Chills overtook her, and Sarah gulped, her heart hammering. The scenes of the war camp were very real. Sarah had never been in a combat environment. The most adventurous thing she had done outside of the Labyrinth run was her two months backpacking in Europe, and though sometimes she had been afraid, she had not been in a war zone.

Jareth spent the next twenty minutes fussing over her appearance and giving her a rough rundown of her role as an emissary. The more he talked, the more Sarah’s heart fluttered, and her palms sweated. The outfit, though spiffy, made her feel strange. When she reached to adjust the diadem, Jareth stopped her hand. “You’re perfect. Don’t touch.”

She let out a frustrated huff of breath. “This is ridiculous, how am I supposed to do you any good? I don’t know nearly enough about Faerie politics.”

“I’ll be right there, precious. I’ll hear what you hear. Take your time answering questions, and I’ll help you with your words.” He ran gloved fingertips over the bruised mark on her neck. “This should help protect you.”

“And I definitely can’t get a sword?”

He grinned. “These are peace talks. Bringing a weapon would send the wrong message.”

Taking a deep breath, Sarah squared her shoulders and stood facing the mirror Jareth had indicated. It had a heavy silver gilt frame, flaking a little to expose the intricate wood carving beneath. Through it, she could see the inside of an empty tent. A table had been set into the middle of it, with a map of what Sarah presumed to be the Goblin Kingdom spread atop it. Carpets littered the ground, and lanterns hung from the tent poles, filling the space with flickering orange light. It was near dusk on the other side of the mirror, so the light filtering through the canvas was a dim, dark blue.

 _I’m right here, precious_.

Sarah did not look at him as the voice slid into her thoughts, sounding all the world like a radio had been tuned between her ears. Without giving herself the chance to hesitate a moment more, Sarah stepped through the mirror.

Though not sure what to expect, Sarah was unsurprised when what felt like liquid mercury closed over her skin and hair, pressing down on her mouth and eyes and ears until she slid another step forward and out the other side.

Immediately, the scent of loamy, fertile soil, woodsmoke, and the sound of hundreds if not thousands of soldiers overtook her senses. The tent itself was still and quiet, but beyond the canvas flaps were a battalion of soldiers gearing for a fight.

_Aldric will have sensed you when you stepped through the portal. Be ready. He should be there in a moment._

Sarah did not respond, taking a few steps closer to the table, and the maps spread out upon it. It was the Goblin Kingdom as she had suspected, but the top map was doing something that made her heart clench. The wavering lines of the Labyrinth shifted, changed, disappeared, and rearranged themselves as she watched, the whole thing moving like a mass of writhing snakes.

 _Do you see this?_ She asked.

_No, precious, describe it to me._

She did, and there was nothing but silence in response for a long couple of moments, and then the voice that rang in her head dripped with venom. _There are only two such maps in existence, both of which were supposed to be in my possession._

_Should I take it?_

_No! Do not take anything that isn’t offered, and even then do not taste or wear anything he gives you._

Sarah was about to ask why when the flap to the tent smacked open, and a man strode into the room. Mismatched eyes of the same blue and brown found hers, but where Jareth’s shone with cunning and warmth, here nothing emanated but a subarctic chill.

For a moment, the two stood and stared at one another. Aldric’s eyes made a slow perusal of Sarah’s appearance, and she did the same to him.

Nearly everywhere Jareth was light, Aldric was dark. There had been years this man had spent under the sun, as evident by the chestnut color of his skin. His hair was a dark copper color, falling in waves to brush his broad shoulders. There were the same upswept eyebrows, the same lean yet predatory physique, and the same gloves. As she focused on them, Aldric straightened the cuffs and took a few steps closer, coming to the other side of the table from her.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice a purr so similar to Jareth’s that Sarah felt chills erupt down her back. “Jareth’s pet human.”

Sarah swallowed the desire to whip around and leap back through the mirror portal. Instead, she lifted her chin and said the words Jareth had rehearsed with her. “I am Sarah Williams, official emissary of the Goblin King, here to strike a peace accord with you, Aldric of the Winter Court.”

The smile he cast her was predatory in the extreme. “Well said, pet.” He gave a stiff, shallow bow. “I, Aldric of the Winter Court, do welcome you to my encampment. Let us begin.”

 _A good start_ , Jareth whispered in her head.

Aldric motioned for her to take a seat, and Sarah did, smoothing down the silk bunched around her hips. Her companion followed the motion of her hands, grinning lasciviously. “Tell me, Sarah Williams,” the way he said her voice was like a brush of fur against her cheek. “Has my brother conquered you at long last? Has he plundered that delectable body of yours? I see his mark on your neck. Crude, that. Crude, but effective.”

Sarah’s throat tightened, and she could sense Jareth’s rage at the back of her mind. It mirrored her own. Aldric had not taken his seat, and he loomed over her, presence more intimidating now that she had to lift her head so much to catch his gaze. He smiled at her as though he knew what she was thinking, too. “If that’s the way you’re going to talk to me, these peace talks will cease.”

“Then, by all means, let them cease,” Aldric purred, finally sliding into the seat across from her. He leaned back in his chair and kicked one booted foot upon the table, exposing a long, toned leg clad in tight pants that looked like they were a cross between linen and silk. He dressed like Jareth, and a metal crest hanging from his neck in the shape of a sickle. “You stare at my amulet,” he said. “Perhaps you wish to switch allegiance? Tell me, do you desire a new master?”

_Don’t fall for—_

“I have no master,” Sarah snapped.

Jareth swore. _Do you know what you just did?_

Aldric’s mouth widened in a delighted smile. “No master, sweet Sarah Williams? Then you are your own mistress, or are you in need of a protector?”

_Sarah, listen to me—say nothing. Do not answer this line of questions. He wants to trap you into his service with implied intent. An unclaimed mortal presenting herself to a fae is considered to be petitioning for a master. It is a well-known custom in the underground, and he will use that precedent against you._

Sarah swallowed and stayed silent. She still was not sure what was going on, but she knew she was on dangerous ground from the predatory gleam in Aldric’s eyes. The map of the Labyrinth continued to shift and reform on the table between them. Her eyes kept catching on the movement.

“I see you enjoy my map,” Aldric said in a soft voice. Sarah tried not to shiver. Whatever else this creature was, he knew how to use inflection to the greatest possible advantage. “Perhaps you would enjoy this,” a goblet appeared in his hand, filled with a clear liquid. “It is made from fruit grown in the very Labyrinth you seem so enamored with. The one you conquered. You have never tasted anything so sweet.” He placed it on the table between them and pushed it forward a few inches by the base of the stem. “Try it.”

 _Don’t_.

Sarah was not that stupid. “No, thank you.”

“Afraid?”

“Why don’t we cut the games and get down to business,” she countered. “Otherwise, all you’re doing is wasting our time.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he whispered. Sarah could swear she could feel the brush of fingers on her neck as he spoke. “ _I_ am enjoying this immensely. Jareth’s mortal obsession, here and in my power? What was he thinking, letting you come here to me? He can’t come himself, can he?”

 _Sarah, get out of there._ Jareth’s voice was frantic. _I’m sorry. Stand up and go through the mirror. Don’t hesitate. Do it now. Please, Sarah._

But she was paralyzed, pinned to her seat by the unrelenting force of Aldric’s gaze. Around her, the camp had gone quiet, and she realized she could hear the rushing of blood in her ears. “Did you agree to the peace talks to get me here?”

“Of course. I knew Jareth was trapped in the aboveground, and there’s only two reasons he would have been there. To steal a mewling infant, or to see you. I made a guess, and I was correct.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his stomach. “Now, you’re in a position to bargain, for you realize that you have nothing.”

Sarah made to stand, but Aldric raised a hand.

“If you rise from that chair, you’ll find yourself with a crossbow bolt through the eye.”

She dropped back down.

“Very good,” Aldric purred, rising and padding over toward her. He leaned against the table, legs crossed at the ankle, and arms crossed over his chest. “What could Jareth possibly offer me that I do not possess or can easily acquire? Lands? I will seize all of his. His riches? They are in the castle, and the castle will soon be mine.”

Sarah listened to Jareth in her mind and repeated his words. “You will not find the Labyrinth so easy to conquer. Even with the map, you are at the disadvantage of being invaders. The Labyrinth does not take kindly to such in its lands. It will rebuff you.”

“Oh, will it?” Aldric leaned down, looking between Sarah’s eyes. “He’s in there, isn’t he? Talking to you? Listening in?”

_Say nothing._

The silence around them was deafening, and Sarah knew he had the tent surrounded by soldiers. Could feel their eagerness on the other side of the tent walls. How many were waiting in the twilight even now, poised to strike?

Gloved fingertips grazed her cheek, and Sarah jerked her head back, narrowing her eyes. Aldric grinned, and his gaze began to move down her figure once more. “I see why he’s so enamored with you. You conquered his Labyrinth, and you are a stunning beauty.”

 _He does not know about the brand_ , Jareth said. _Please say nothing._

 _That’s all I seem to be doing_ , Sarah thought back, frantic. _I told you this was a terrible idea. What the hell am I supposed to do here?_

_Sarah, as soon as you can go through the portal. Remember he cannot kill you. Not as an official envoy._

_What about one of his soldiers? Can they kill me?_

_No, but you mustn’t—_

Whatever else he might have said was lost as Aldric yanked the bracelet off.

“Ow!” Sarah cried, jerking back in her chair and rubbing her wrist. She could scent magic, sharp and sudden in the air, and the bracelet dangling from Aldric’s fingers turned to ash.

“There,” he said. “No more interruptions. Now it’s only the two of us.” His sensual laugh made the air inside the tent feel heavy. “Whatever shall we do now?”

Whatever power Jareth had lent her through the bracelet was gone now, reduced to dust on the wind. But Sarah had never relied on him or his power. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

“ _There_ we are,” Aldric said, chucking her under the chin with his knuckles. “I must thank my brother next time I see him for delivering you to me.”

Sarah glared at him.

“Tell me, Sarah Williams, how well do you know my brother? It has been years which, for a mortal, might as well be forever. Silly things. Tell me, do you love him? Cling to him?” Aldric leaned forward, bending at the waist, so he loomed over her. “Does he tell you he’ll protect you?”

Sarah clenched her hands into fists. She wanted to burst from the chair or slap him, but most of all, she wanted to go back through the mirror she could see out of the corner of her eye. But the image of a crossbow bolt through her neck kept her still, even as Aldric grew closer. “I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to talk about peace. What will make you stop the invasion?”

“Nothing,” Aldric said, sounding bored. “It will happen. Unless...”

Sarah waited, breath held, but Aldric didn’t continue, a sly smile curling his lips. “Unless what?” she asked.

“Unless you agree to stay here with me.”

A laugh burst from her before she could stop it, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Aldric pulled back, frowning. “I’m sorry,” Sarah gasped, when she had stopped enough to speak. “It’s just, if you knew the history between Jareth and me, you’d be laughing, too.” Shaking her head, she continued, “Why do you want me to stay with you? What purpose will that serve?”

“It would drive my brother to madness.”

Sarah cocked her head. “Aren’t you doing that by attempting to invade the Goblin Kingdom?”

“I have the feeling this would be worse,” Aldric whispered, leaning forward once more. “You smell fantastic.”

Sarah drew back. “I’m not going to stay here with you, and _I_ have the feeling you can’t keep me here unless we strike a bargain.”

His smile was sharp. “Jareth taught you little, but enough.”

Licking her lips, Sarah tried to project a casualness she did not feel. “Your starting offer is nothing short of absurd. What else do you want?”

“You in my bed,” he purred, trailing a finger down the front of her neck and her breastbone. “Become my mistress, and I will stay my forces.”

“For what? A day?”

“For as long as you remain mine,” he growled. “And I will feed you from the tree that grows in the heart of the Seelie Court, to ensure your days stretch further than an aboveground mortal.”

Sarah swallowed hard. Warm puffs of Aldric’s breath caressed her cheeks, and she could smell him. Cedarwood and vanilla brandy, he smelled like decadent evenings under a spreading canopy of stars. “I’m not for sale,” she said. “I won’t trade my life for the Goblin Kingdom, and I don’t know you well enough to invite you into my bed.” She lifted her chin again, despite the pulse she knew showed pounding in her throat. “I propose a stay in the invasion. Jareth is bound by fae laws to my world. Let him return here, and _then_ strike, but allow him the ability to defend his lands.”

“No. This was going to happen regardless of his presence, but this is too golden an opportunity to ignore. You’re asking me, a hunter, to release prey I have lawfully caught, and without offering anything up in its place.”

“I’m not going to become your mistress.”

“Perhaps not,” his knees nudged hers, and she could feel he burned as hot as Jareth. “Tell me, how long did it take for my brother to worm his way into your bed? An hour? A day?” His gaze was intense, and he pushed off from the table, standing with his knees touching hers. Then he bent down, and his face was next to hers, radiating heat like a furnace. There was a deep inhale, and Aldric jerked back. “He hasn’t yet, has he?”

Sarah stayed silent.

Aldric grinned, his eyes dancing as he pushed off the chair and circled her, hand sliding up her right shoulder and then grasping a lock of her hair, twisting it through his fingers. “Untasted,” he murmured. “That mark—he should not have given it to you. Not yet. Isn’t that right?”

Not knowing what he was talking about, Sarah swallowed again and kept her eyes forward, though her skin itched and prickled from his presence at her back. “None of this matters. We’re talking about—”

“A cease-fire, yes. I know.” He growled the last. “Be quiet while I look at you.”

Heat flamed in her face, but before she could retort, she found her mouth sealed shut. The fresh tang of ozone reached her nose a moment later, and Sarah knew he had performed some magic on her.

Fingers ran through her hair, then trailed over her shoulder and arm. He fingered the wire vines and ran the half cape through his cupped hand. He took his time, and silence stretched until Aldric stood before her once more. Grasping her hands in each of his own, he pulled her to a stand. “I’ve told the guards to leave,” he said in a soft voice. “I pledge no harm will come to you while you remain in my company.”

Sarah did not find a great deal of comfort in those words, but Aldric was still looking at her with a hunger in his gaze that had not been there a while ago. A sort of panged possessiveness, so similar to how Jareth used to treat her that something tightened in her chest. _What the hell is with these two? Is this a fae thing?_

“You’re touched,” he said with a degree of awe in his tone. “That’s how you beat his Labyrinth.” His grip tightened on her hands. “No wonder he wants you. It must be driving him mad, to be so near you without possessing you.”

Without meaning to, she shivered, and Aldric’s eyes caught the motion.

His smile widened. “You’re not immune to his charms. Nor, it seems, are you immune to mine.” His expression grew thoughtful, and he tilted his head, studying her. They were too close for her comfort, but he held her tight. Immovable. “Be my mistress, and I will never set my sights on the Goblin Kingdom or my brother ever again. How’s that for reasonable?”

“No,” Sarah cried before she could recognize her lips had become unsealed. Her heart was pounding and had been for too long, adrenaline coursing through her system as half her mind screamed at her to flee, or fight, or do _something_ , _anything_ to get out of there. “I don’t want to live in the underground. I don’t want to be queen. I don’t care what it means that I’m touched, or he has that mark—”

“What?” Aldric yanked her closer, so she crashed against his chest, his grip bruising. “What did you say? What mark?”

Sarah pressed her lips together. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , she chastised herself.

“I could make you tell me,” he growled. “I have been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

The words sent a cold wash of fear down her spine, and Sarah yanked back on his hold. “Let me go!”

“Not until you tell me about this mark.” He shook her once, hard. “Tell me!”

Teeth clacking together, Sarah gritted out the old words that had saved her once before. “You have no power over me, you son of a bitch.”

Aldric released her so suddenly she stumbled back, falling over the chair behind her legs. She quickly put it between them as he began to laugh. “So, that’s how you keep him at bay. How delicious.” He licked his lips and grinned. “Say it again.”

Hesitating for only a moment, Sarah repeated the phrase that had won her brother back all those years ago. “You have no power over me.”

He shuddered, closing his eyes, and when he opened them again, she took another step back. There was nothing but heat there. Heat and desire. “You have a portal nearby, don’t you?”

It took everything in her not to glance over her shoulder to where the mirror hovered, some six feet behind her. She lifted her chin in answer.

“I will make you another. My brother was never very good at portals. I want one to stay open between us.” His voice lowered to a purr at the end, and warmth coiled through her middle. “You will return to me.”

“Will I?”

“Oh, yes.” Aldric straightened his glove. “I have a deal to propose. I will do as you ask. I will stay my hand and keep my troops in line so long as Jareth remains trapped in your world. In exchange, you will spend half of each day with me.”

“I told you I wouldn’t be your mistress.”

“Not as my mistress,” Aldric said in a soothing voice. “But you will accept me as a suitor. I wish to court you.”

 _I wish to court you_. Jareth had said, only a few days ago. “Time works differently between the underground and my world,” Sarah said, thinking over things while she spoke. “What would be twelve hours in my world might take days here. I won’t do that.”

“Fine. Eight hours in the underground each day. Eight of our hours will be less in your world.”

She did not know how much time had passed since she had come through the mirror, but she thought it had been about an hour. The thought of spending eight hours a _day_ with Aldric was—too much, especially if he focused on courting her the entire time.

_I am only human._

“That’s too much,” she said. “Two hours.”

A gleam entered his gaze. Sarah had seen the same look in Jareth’s when she had struck the bargain with him on their question and answer sessions. The terms were agreed upon, now all that was left were the details. “Six.”

“Three.”

He frowned a little and studied her for a moment before saying, “Four. Final offer. Four hours of your time each day.”

“Each day until Jareth returns to his castle,” Sarah stipulated. “I won’t be doing this for the rest of my life.”

“Of course,” Aldric said. “I’m not unreasonable.” His grin widened. “Though if you decide to stay, I will grab that opportunity with both hands.”

“I won’t.”

“You might.”

Sarah backed up another step. “Then it’s a deal. Four hours each day, and you will stop the invasion until Jareth returns.”

“You have my word,” he gave a shallow bow. “Until tomorrow.”

Turning on her heel without another word, Sarah strode for the portal mirror.

Jareth’s hands were on her the moment she stepped through, and his frantic gaze eased something tight within her chest. He looked her over. “You’re not hurt?” He asked, his voice sounding hoarse. As though he had been screaming.

“I’m okay,” she said, pulling him in for an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her nose to his skin, breathing in. That was when the shaking started. “I’m okay,” she said again, closing her eyes.

Jareth held her until the shaking stopped, his hands never ceasing their gentle assurances that she was unharmed. Her limbs felt heavy, and she wanted nothing more than to pull Jareth into bed with her and let his warmth envelop her while she slept, but she had to talk to him. “What happened?” He asked, his voice gentler than she had ever heard it.

Sarah sighed against his neck and pulled out of his arms. She motioned down at herself. “Could you do something about these clothes? I want to be comfortable.” Jareth motioned toward her, and the intricate outfit he had armored her in disappeared, replaced with lounge pants and a tunic-style shirt that fell to mid-thigh. “Thanks,” she breathed. Then she told him everything, starting with the moment the bracelet had turned to ash in Aldric’s hands.

Jareth began to pace a quarter of the way through her telling, and though he made occasional noises that sounded like snarls or growls, he did not interrupt her. When she got to the bargain, however, he strode over to her, taking her by the shoulders. “Word for word,” he said. “Tell me what you promised word for word.”

“Four hours of underground time each day in exchange for him stopping the invasion until after you return to your castle,” she said. “It was the best I could do.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on each cheek, the touches lingering. “You did an incredible job, Sarah.”

“You’re not mad?” She asked. “He does want to court me, like you.”

Jareth’s smile was a quick cut across his face. “Aldric is excellent at many things, but in this, he miscalculated. He does not know you as I do.” He bowed over her hand like a courtier, grazing a kiss across her knuckles. “Champion of the Labyrinth. You have gifted me the time I need. How can I thank you?”

Sarah could think of several things. Her body hummed after the attentions of Aldric, but it was his brother she craved. Yet overriding all those desires was the need for sleep. “Put my living room back in order,” she said. “And let me go to bed. I have the feeling tomorrow is going to be just as long a day as this.”

Jareth released her and stepped away, the living room shimmering back into existence as he did so. “As you wish. And Sarah?”

She had taken a few steps toward her room, but she stopped and turned her head toward him. “Yes?”

“Thank you. I am in your debt.” He rested a hand over his chest. “I believe you understand the significance of such a thing between a mortal and fae.”

“No,” Sarah yawned. “But you can tell me in the morning. Goodnight, Jareth.”

“Goodnight, precious.”

She smiled at the nickname and padded into her room. Sliding onto the bed without bothering with the covers, she clutched a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes, but as soon as she did, she could see the mismatched eyes of Aldric in her vision. She could tell it was him, even though the colors were the same. There was something in Jareth his brother was missing.

 _You will be mine_ , a voice seemed to whisper through her mind, but Sarah was falling into an exhausted slumber and did not hear.

###

In the underground, Aldric raised a glass of wine toward a portrait of two fine looking women. “We have him at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks. Happy 4th to those of you who are in the States. I had a whopper of a chapter for you today. At this rate I've signed up for some kind of quarantine epic. I really need to throw some shorter chapters in here, but I think those will come soon. You'll see what I mean by the end.
> 
> This chapter was much later coming out than I wanted it to be considering how quickly it came to mind, but I was battling off a kidney stone and all the vomiting that comes with it for several long, long days. I tell you what—I would not wish a kidney stone upon my worst enemy. Those things are no joke.
> 
> Once again I will be taking a short break from another chapter because I have to work on my original fiction, but I'm really hoping to stick to uploading every few weeks. No more than four weeks apart, hopefully.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to those of you who review. Reviews really help keep me going on this story. I read them over and over, especially when the story is making me miserable (which isn't often, this is a pretty fun story to write).
> 
> Oh! I bought a statue recently, so now I have a 1:6 replica of Jareth sitting on my bookshelf. I bought it as a divorce present to myself. As replacement men go… well, you can't go wrong with the Goblin King in my book.
> 
> For the three of you that are still reading this author note—hi. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. You rock.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_Jareth_

_One arising sun making me so fearless and strong_

_You are a light that burns so constantly_

_You fill my heart with hope and honesty_

_Your light carries me to far and wide_

_\- Your Light_ , Will Morton & Julie Wemyss

**September 27th, 2002. Day 10 of the quarantine**

Sarah stepped through the mirror, a strange expression on her face, but smiled when she caught Jareth’s eye. “Hey.” The portal disappeared behind her with a faint _pop._ His nostrils flared, scenting the air. She brought with her traces of the underground and a distinct impression of brandy that was all Aldric. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but then she was slipping a hand into his and her head tucked against his shoulder. She let out a shuddering breath. “It is good to be home.”

Jareth gripped her to him, and they stood like that for several long moments. “What happened?” he asked at last. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, pulling away and moving toward the kitchen. “Is there coffee?”

“Yes.” He followed her, stopping at the entrance to the room to watch her.

She spoke while she prepared her drink, not looking at him. “I didn’t see much of Aldric. Only when I first came through, and before I left. He was busy with something in the camp, I’m not sure what. So I stayed in his tent and read a book.”

Jareth blinked. “You... read a book.”

“A very interesting book,” she supplied, turning with her back pressed against the countertop, taking a sip of coffee. She eyed him over the rim of the mug. “About those who are fae touched.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose you have some questions.”

“Just a few.”

Jareth leaned against the wall and looked Sarah over. She had greeted him well enough when she came through the portal, but there was an edge to her smile now. A defiant glint to her eye he knew all too well. “I’ve told you before, I will tell you all. If you will listen.”

“But, you haven’t.”

He flashed a smile. “You haven’t asked. No.” He lowered his voice and tilted his head. “Your mouth has been occupied in other ways.”

A flaming face was his reward. Sarah’s brow furrowed as she took another sip of her coffee. “So, you’ve been distracting me by making out with me?”

Their compact sang like a struck tuning fork. He chewed his words for a moment before answering. “Perhaps I have been negligent in my explanations.” The spell seemed to growl, and he sighed, unfolding his arms and sliding toward her. “I know you have learned some things you might find troubling. I was reticent to tell you those things myself, knowing how you’ve viewed me as your adversary, and you do so love to place blame.”

Her flush darkened. “I do not!”

“Yes.” He took another step closer. “You do.”

Sarah eyed him, green eyes flashing. “How long have you known I was fae touched?”

“Since I first saw you.”

“And you never thought to tell me?” she asked.

“I did think to tell you, many times, but the moment never felt right.” Jareth was close enough to her to reach out. He did, skimming the back of his gloved fingers against her arm. He noted the gooseflesh that rose along her skin as he did. “What is it that you want to know now?” He asked, keeping his voice low and soothing.

Sarah’s eyes closed for a moment, and she set the coffee mug on the countertop behind her. “The book said being touched runs through families because one of my ancestors either fucked one of you or made a longstanding deal.” She scoffed. “So, apparently, every couple of generations someone shows up who is touched. Someone who can wield a little more power, and has a piece of Faerie in them.” Her gaze found his. “What is Faerie? I asked yesterday, but you said there was no time.”

“Faerie is as much a place as it is an idea. The underground—The Goblin Kingdom—touches it, but is more an extension onto itself rather than a part of Faerie. But Faerie is where my kind originated, and where so many of your monsters and boogeymen come from, as well.” He stopped for a moment, trying to think how best to explain. “Faerie is vast and dangerous and unforgiving. It is many places and one.”

“You’re talking in riddles,” she complained.

“Your language is not suited to describing Faerie,” he said, reaching out for her once more. His fingers grazed her stomach over the blue blouse she wore. He played with the buttons near the hem, then spoke to her in his language. He described to her the heart of Faerie in a few seconds, now that he had access to the words he needed, and her eyes widened.

“I—it’s like I can almost see it while you’re talking, but I don’t understand the words.” Sarah’s breath left her in a small, shuddering exhale as his fingertips teased up the row of small white buttons. “Is that the language the declaration was written in?”

“Yes.” His hand stopped just before the swell of her breast. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. She came with minimal resistance, perfectly molding against his body, and he brought his other hand up to cup her face. “With time, humans have been able to understand it and speak it some, but it is complicated, and relies as heavily on magic as it does on sound. That is why you can sense the rightness of the words. You are touched, and have more magic inside of you than what is average.”

Sarah’s hand covered his own. “I have more questions.” Her eyes were luminous, but it was her lips which continued to draw his eye, especially as she sucked the plump lower one into her mouth. She took a breath and asked, “Is it true what the book said about those who are touched? That they offer an avenue to unlocked power? The book made it seem like having someone touched was like having a nuclear bomb.”

Jareth made a frustrated sound. _Damn you, Aldric._ His brother had known exactly what he was doing. “Again, the translation is not exact. We have many words for power. What you are and what you can offer varies on who _you_ are, and how much power you grant us.”

“Power over me?”

“Yes. You and I have a compact. This bargain between us you are exploiting even now. But there’s an equilibrium to it. I have as much power over you as you have over me.”

“Unless I refuse to kiss you,” she said with a sly smile. “Or you refuse to do the task.”

“Precisely.” Then he would have the ultimate control over her. The thought used to fill him with a rush of giddiness, but now? He did not want a broken Sarah at his beck and call. “Though I doubt I will have much trouble getting you to kiss me now,” he said, his voice soft.

She grabbed his hand, pulling off his linen glove and pressing a kiss into his palm. A newly familiar warmth spread through him at the contact. A combination of the magic of the bond and the sheer force of her touch.

“There is a question of my own I need you to answer,” he growled. “You’ve pictured us together, haven’t you? How? How have you seen us, Sarah?”

Her breath caught, and she glanced up, cheeks flaming, his bare hand still trapped in hers. “Like this,” she whispered. “You holding me, and...” she swallowed. “Other things.”

Jareth leaned down enough that he knew his breath brushed against her skin. “What other things?”

Her eyes slid closed as her lips parted, and a hunger rose in him at the sight. He wanted to see that mouth opened in an O of pleasure. Tightening his grip at her waist, he extricated his ungloved hand from hers and scraped his fingers through her hair. She made a quiet little sound when he did, leaning into his touch, her eyes still closed. “I imagine us together.” She licked her lips. “You kissing me everywhere. You’re so warm, and I can’t help but wonder what you would feel like inside me.”

She took a shaky breath, and her tongue darted out again to moisten her lips. He wanted to capture those lips in a kiss, was trembling with the need, but he did not want her to stop talking.

Her eyes opened, and the need there echoed his own. “I want you so bad I can barely stand it,” she whispered. “I want you right now.”

“How, Sarah?” He gripped the hair at the base of her skull, a small gasp tumbling from her lips as he did. His smile was sharp, his expression dark. How fast the conversation had turned once he began touching her. Jareth knew there would be more questions, and soon, but for now? For now, he would lose himself in the crystalline depths of her eyes as surely as she lost herself in his.

Sarah’s gaze was intense. Unwavering. “I want you to taste me like you were going to before everything started. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Jareth’s mind flashed on that afternoon of sunlight and song. How she had lifted her hips to help him when he reached for the band of her pants. He slid a hand down to the same spot and felt her tremble in his grip. “I can be generous,” he whispered, lowering his face to hers while his fingers relaxed then gripped her hair. “Tell me true, Sarah. May I kiss you?”

Her eyes were heavy-lidded with desire. “Yes. _Please_ , yes.”

He did, their mouths colliding. Her arms were around his neck as he slid his hands down her sides and back up, coming to still for a moment on the collar of her blouse. He worked at the buttons as her mouth slanted under his, her breath sweet as nectar and her tongue like velvet. And then she was moaning into the kiss, and he gave up his careful unbuttoning and ripped her shirt the rest of the way open.

Sarah made a sound of approval, pushing him back, so he bumped against the countertop. He let her take that small measure of control while he popped the clasp on the front of her bra. They broke the kiss, Jareth pulling off his other glove with his teeth while she shrugged out of shirt and bra.

Then they were on each other again, and her breasts were heavy in his hands, warm with hard nipples pressing into his palms. He grasped her waist and turned them, so she was the one pinned against the counter, her breath coming harder now. He could smell her desire. The moment he kissed her, it had flamed hot. Nudging her legs apart with his knee, he pressed his thigh against the apex of that need. She let out a soft, keening little wail.

“Do you want my mouth down there, Sarah?” He asked, stopping the kiss, so he could nuzzle the side of her face. “Do you want me to suck your clit?”

In response, she ground against him, panting, her hands gripping his shoulders. “Jareth, yes. Please.”

He hoisted her onto the counter before his hands flew to the button and zipper holding her trousers together. Making quick work of it, he hooked his fingers beneath the band of her undergarments as well and tugged. Sarah propped herself up on her palms, lifting her hips, so he could shimmy the fabric down her legs. The process took all of a few seconds, yet every moment spent not touching her, caressing her, felt like a moment wasted. He jerked the clothes the rest of the way off before grasping her knees, pushing them apart.

Sarah gasped, leaning back on her hands, and he could sense the tremor in her. Jareth paused, hands on her thighs, and looked her over. It was the first time he had seen her naked outside of dreams, but his dreams had been nothing like this.

Her creamy skin was unblemished, save for a birthmark on her left hip as big around as his thumb, shaped like a peach. He grinned to see it, and then the smile faded from his lips as his gaze traveled lower, to the nest of short dark curls that was the source of that tantalizing scent of desire. Holding his breath, he sank to his knees before her. Her legs trembled as he hooked them over his shoulders, releasing his breath to let it fan out against her glistening folds.

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed. “Jareth, I’ve never done this before.”

“Untasted,” he whispered. “Come forward a little.”

“I’m afraid I’ll fall.”

“I’ve got you, precious.” He grasped her thighs in reminder as she scooted to the very edge of the countertop. When she was in position, he brought a hand to her mound, cupping her as she writhed. He rubbed her a little and slipped two fingers into her slit.

Sarah bucked, and if not for his pressure on her thigh, she might have dislodged herself, but he also compensated for her movements. He dragged the tips of his fingers between her clit and her entrance, finding her slick. “Jareth, oh _gods,_ you’re so warm.”

He chuckled, sliding those two fingers within her at the same moment he leaned forward, touching down with lips and tongue on the bud of her pleasure. Sarah made a sound close to a shriek, and one of her hands came up, so she could thread fingers through his hair. He growled a little as she scraped his scalp, and her trembling intensified.

Jareth began working her with his tongue, smiling a little as her small noises increased in number. She tasted as she smelled. Divine. It reminded him of the darkest hour before dawn, on the coast of a northern shore. She tasted like shadows and felt like the calm moment before life springs forth once more. He sucked her clit into his mouth and crooked his fingers within her, increasing his tempo.

“Oh, fuck,” Sarah gasped. “I’m going to come.”

He rolled his eyes up to her, never ceasing in his movements, and was rewarded with the sight of Sarah’s head thrown back, her chest and stomach heaving with her breaths. She cried out, long and wordless, and there was a surge of heat and new wetness on his fingers.

Jareth drew back a little, pulling out his fingers, so he could grasp each of her thighs, keeping her in place. Her clit was hard as he lazily circled it with his tongue. She jumped, and her gaze snapped to his. “What are you doing?”

He pulled away enough so his breath would still hit her as he spoke. “Giving you a moment’s respite. A grin spread across his face. “You didn’t think I would be done with you so soon, did you, precious?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Jareth leaned forward again, taking her in his mouth. Magic sparked and coiled between where they touched, and so every stroke of his tongue, he felt the pressure build between them. He pushed a little of his own back across the heated link, and she shuddered in response.

Sarah whimpered and begged. She moaned and sighed, canting her hips toward him and pulling away as the sensations became too intense. He followed the cues her body gave him, teasing her right to the edge but not letting her pass, or by turns focusing on her with such intensity the orgasm was ripped from her.

By the time he finished, sweat stuck strands of her dark hair to her neck, her eyes glittered like jewels, and a flush spread across her chest and cheeks. He rose up, standing between her spread legs, and pressed his body against hers, so she could feel exactly what that had done to him. When he kissed her, she hesitated for but a moment before meeting his hunger with her own.

Gods, but he wanted her.

She wrapped her legs around him to where he felt the pressure of her calves on his lower back. Still fully dressed, he ground against her sensitive flesh. She clung to him, and her whole body shivered.

Sarah sucked in a breath the moment the kiss concluded, eyes flashing open to find his. “Jareth, that was...” she clutched him tighter, burying her head in the crook of his neck. The next time she spoke, he felt it through his skin. “I’ve never felt that before.”

He gathered her up, lifting her off the countertop. She let out a surprised squeak and tightened her legs around him as he walked them into the living room. With a minor push of power, he transformed it into the room he created the first night he was here, lying her on a bed piled high with pillows and silks and furs. She looked resplendent, her back arching as he knelt between her legs. He bent down and took one peaked nipple into his mouth.

He wanted to lose himself here. Wanted her to peel off his clothes, so he could bury himself in her silken heat. But there were still things she needed to know about the mating bond, and about being fae-touched. Ten days ago, he would not have thought twice about consummation and what it implied, but now? He would not shatter the trust they had just started to build.

Jareth rolled them, so she straddled him, his hands ghosting up her sides before moving down to rest on her hips. Her hair was wild, her eyes heavy-lidded, and she reached for him, stroking his length through the soft linen of his pants.

He hissed and gripped her hips tighter. “Sarah, we can’t. Not yet.”

She went still, except her head tilted a little to one side. “Why not?” She grasped him, and he bared his teeth. “We both want to. I’ve been thinking about it since the first time we kissed. Haven’t you?”

“That long and longer,” he panted, grasping her hand and pulling it away from him. He threaded their fingers together and pulled on her arm, so she leaned forward, breasts pressed to his chest. “But you still have questions. And I, answers to give. We won’t sleep together until you understand the ramifications.”

“Ramifications?” Her brows furrowed, and she sat up a little. “You wanted to have sex before, you didn’t have any hesitancy. Were the ramifications the same?”

“Yes and no,” he said. “May I explain?”

Sarah slid off him, scooting to the head of the bed, so she was sitting against the headboard. He could feel the discomfort radiating off her, and so brushed a hand against her leg, directing a tendril of magic to form into a robe belted at her waist. She slipped her hands along the emerald silk. “You do like this color on me, don’t you?”

“It brings out your eyes,” he said. “And your eyes have always been one of your best features.”

She smiled a little. “Thank you.”

Jareth sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, hands on his knees, regarding her. “As I told you before, I knew from the moment I saw you that you were fae-touched. It’s not hard to find the markers. And from that moment, I extended my protection onto you. I know you said you wish for a normal life, that you feel as though you would be normal if not for my interference. I am sorry to say that has never been true. The moment you were born, you were slated for one of us. I am only glad I found you first.”

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “What do you mean, extended your protection?”

Jareth shifted a little, settling into a more comfortable spot. “I ensured all others knew I had claim to you. As you aged, your latent magic grows stronger, attracting my kind. It was only pure luck I found you so early when you were young. Others might not have been so kind as to leave you in peace.”

“Leave me in _peace_?” She scoffed, turning her head away from him. “You’ve never left me alone.”

“I have,” he insisted. “A run through the Labyrinth? A yearly visit? These things are nothing compared to what you could have been going through. Why, if a selkie or a boggart had found you first, you would never have known a moment’s peace until they—” he stopped himself, pursing his lips. “The magic in you calls to us. Each one. It’s like Faerie is trying to regain that lost part of itself. And there are many ways to harness that power. Through blood and sacrifice, consumption, and... sex.”

“What?” she asked, and her voice sounded small. Almost frightened.

That was the problem with this. None of it was pleasant. None of it was what she would want to hear, but hear it she must. “For the most part, it is not a process I can control. Even this,” he gestured between them. “What we just did resulted in a small exchange of power. Just a sip.” He could feel it burning beneath his skin, her magic as potent as a draught of pure starlight. “But if we are to have sex, there will be more. Much more. I will always attempt to balance the exchange, but you will be altered by it.”

Sarah scrubbed her hands over her face. “Why can’t anything be simple with you?”

“Because my world is not simple. Neither is yours, you’re just more accustomed to it.” He wanted to reach for her again, but the way she had tucked up against the headboard, pulling her legs away from him screamed her reluctance to be touched. “But that is what I’m trying to explain to you; you are not of this world. Not entirely. You were always going to be pulled into Faerie. It is the fate of all those who are touched. One has never escaped our notice.”

“I was always going to be pulled into Faerie,” she mused aloud, still not looking at him. “You say it like it’s a foregone conclusion, but I’m here, aren’t I? I’m in my world. The human world.”

“Because of my protection, and even then, you’re now bound to a compact that takes you into Faerie for four hours each day. That’s how these things start. Do not think Aldric will not try to find a way to keep you longer.” The thought tightened something in his chest and made his blood sing. “Never tell him your weaknesses. Never trust him. He’s not like me; he won’t care if he breaks trust with you.”

“I thought you weren’t worried,” she said.

“About you giving in to my brother’s charms? No.” Again that desire to reach out and touch her, to continue to build upon what they had started only a few days ago. It felt too fragile, still. “But I worry he’ll find some leverage over you. It was a thought that came to me while you were gone. He cannot know about your friends. The rock troll, Sir Didymus, Higgle—”

“Hoggle,” she corrected.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “If Aldric were to know their worth to you, he would exploit it. If there is _anything_ he knows you care about, he will take advantage. I need you to be aware of that.”

Sarah hugged her knees to her chest, the long folds of fabric covering all but her ankles and feet. “Okay, I’m aware of it, but we’re getting off-topic.” She looked at him at last, her gaze unwavering. “What is this exchange of power you’re talking about during sex? What does that mean, exactly? And why didn’t you tell me about it before?”

The compact between them tightened around his middle, demanding satisfaction. “I did not tell you because I was afraid of scaring you away. What you’re about to learn is not a pleasant fact. If we have sex, each time will leave my mark on you, and it will grant me some of your magic. This.” He held up a hand and let the strange magic he could feel from her come to his fingertips, which erupted in a spray of sparks that hit his palm and bounced off to skitter across the bed. “This is yours.” He cut off the flow. “It means I will have a small measure of power over you. Not enough to make you do anything, Sarah, love, but it will strengthen what is already there.”

“Already there?”

“The bond,” he lifted his left hand, where the tattoo snaked. “And my protection. Those _certain powers_ you used so well to wish away your squalling baby brother. Each of them creates a link between you and I. It is why I will always be able to find you, even through the worlds.”

She seemed to shiver.

He resisted the urge no longer, reaching out and running a hand up one of her ankles. Her eyes closed, and she let out a shuddering breath, and he let his fingers play up her calf. “Know I would want you without any of this,” he said, voice lowering. “Getting to know you, I’ve realized how incredibly lucky I am. That I found you in the first place, and the Labyrinth picked you. That I was trapped here. I am still worried about my kingdom, and about you, but I cannot help but feel this was meant to be. I had been looking at you and at this.” Again he gestured between them. “The wrong way for years.”

Sarah hesitated for a moment and reached a hand out for him. He grasped it, and their fingers laced together. She held his left hand, and the mark of the bond sizzled and buzzed with her contact. “And now?”

He tightened his grip on her calf. “I care for you. Deeply. My kind has many words for love. The word is not an adequate comparison, yet it is all I have to work within the limitations of your language. You are...” he hesitated. “I respect you. Treasure you. I want for you to have the life you desire, and the one which will bring you the most happiness. And I endeavor to be a part of that.”

“You are,” she cut in, gaze intense. “It’s just that I can’t reconcile that having you means the Goblin Kingdom and a queenship I never asked for.”

His lips quirked up in a smile. “Would you prefer the title Royal Consort instead?”

Sarah flushed. “Maybe. I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Well, that was delightfully ambiguous.”

“Shut up,” she squeezed his fingers and let his hand go, swiping it through her mussed hair. “I’m going to take a shower. I think I’ve had all the talk of magic and ties and bonds I can deal with right now. I’ve only had two cups of coffee today.”

“You do drink an inordinate amount of that concoction.”

She eyed him. “If I ever do live in the Goblin Kingdom, you best believe we’re finding a way to get coffee. You haven’t seen me without it. I am not pleasant.”

He let go of her leg, fingers tracing along her skin until the last possible moment. “I will provide you with whatever you desire,” he said.

Red bloomed high in her cheeks again, and she looked away from his gaze. “I’m keeping this robe.”

“Of course, precious, it’s yours.” He watched her slide off the bed, adjusting the fabric, draping her as she moved. “May I ask one thing?”

She glanced back at him. “What is it?”

“Please do not blame me for this, Sarah. I have only seen three hundred years. I was not there when the rules were set down, back at the making of things. I have done much to ensure you retain your autonomy. Please do not think because I know how the system works, that I am somehow behind it all.” He tilted his head. “Remember, I am not the villain.”

She stared at him for a long moment before she sputtered, “You’re three _hundred_ years old?”

He smiled. “Why, Sarah, I am one of the youngest of the fae. Aldric is my older brother; he is closer to five centuries.”

She blinked, then shook her head. “I’m taking a shower.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Can I sleep with you tonight? Just... sleep.”

His heart fluttered, and his fae instincts sang in triumph. He had done it. He had forged the path to her trust, and with that trust would come— _no,_ he interrupted those thoughts. _Take only what is given. She does not belong to me._

 _Not yet_ , that traitorous part of him whispered. _But soon._

“Of course,” he said aloud. “My bed or yours?”

“Yours,” she said, casting her gaze over the changed space. “Is this what your room looks like at the castle?”

“Yes, though mine is much larger, and there are more books.” He slid off the bed and went to her, leaning down to give her forehead a quick kiss. “Go. Take your time. Relax. I’ll be here when you emerge, in whatever capacity you require. We can talk more, or,” he glanced down the front of her robe. His fingers itched to part the silk and expose her once more. Jareth grew hard at the very thought. “There are more pleasant activities one can get up to with their mouth.”

Sarah’s mouth parted, and he caressed her plump bottom lip with his thumb. “You want to do that again?” She whispered.

“I’ll do it as often as you’ll let me,” he said, voice gentle.

She kissed him so suddenly he almost did not see her move. She grabbed the lapels of his shirt and yanked him down, moaning when he sucked that bottom lip into his mouth and bit down before sweeping into her with his tongue, devouring.

Sarah worked at the sash at her waist, making quick work of the simple knot before baring herself to him. He growled as she brought one of his hands to her breast.

They ended up against the wall, Jareth on his knees once more as she scrambled for purchase while he stroked her to her end. And then they were on the bed, and she was spread beneath him like every temptation come to life, and he took his time. Feasting upon her until her legs trembled and her voice turned into a fervent whisper. When he climbed her body to kiss her once more, she met him with a lazy sensuality. When they both found their way into the shower a little while later, she stroked him with slippery hands until he came with a hoarse cry, one arm braced against the tiled wall and the other clutching her tight to him.

Sarah tucked up against him to read as they began to settle in for the evening. Jareth draped an arm around her and marveled at the change. For a while, he sat there unmoving, watching her turn the pages and inhaling the sweet just-cleaned scent of her. His body hummed from her attentions and continued closeness.

Aldric had attempted to put a stop to this today. By leaving Sarah with that book—and Jareth was fairly certain what book it had been—he had declared that though the battle had been stayed, the war was still on.

 _Well done, brother,_ Jareth smiled. _But I will win._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks,
> 
> I know, this isn't the "every couple of weeks/at most every four weeks" upload schedule that was promised. With that in mind, there will be no more promises unless something has already been written and we're just working with an upload schedule. I do, however, apologize for leaving you hanging.
> 
> Forgive me, but I need to talk to you for a second, so I hope you don't mind a longer author's note.
> 
> When I first started writing this story, I had the idea of a more humorous tale. A dose of levity for what seemed, at the time, to be a dreadful but manageable situation. Jareth was going to get stuck with Sarah during a pandemic, and hijinks would ensue. That was the basic premise.
> 
> We (here in the U.S.) are in the sixth month of stay-at-home orders for most states (kinda). And we just passed the horrific milestone of 200,000 dead. For anyone not hiding under a rock, you know damn well why we have so many dead when compared to other countries that handled the lockdown with some degree of sense.
> 
> I am tired, and I am furious, and I am oftentimes without a shred of hope. Especially when you add on top of it the recent passing of our illustrious RBG. I very much feel like I am in mourning, and I know I'm not alone in that feeling.
> 
> The humorous quarantine story idea has officially died.
> 
> Which is why, for the remainder of this story, the quarantine/virus/political theater is going to be background noise (it already kind of was). It won't have much to do with the plot moving forward. I even thought about re-writing this to have a different start premise.
> 
> Oh, and I have gone through the story and done a significant number of edits. Nothing too much. I changed some of the conversation in chapter 10 around why Sarah was going to be Jareth's emissary. It wasn't that big of a change, though, so no need to re-read.
> 
> I also wanted to announce that I've officially published my third book, which is the sequel to the book I released last year. I'm very proud of it.
> 
> I hope that you all are well. I hope that you and your loved ones are safe. I've missed you all and I hope to see you again soon.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	12. Chapter 12

** Chapter Twelve **

_Sarah_

_For my true love is a man_

_Who never existed at all_

_Oh he was a beautiful fiction_

_I invented to keep out the cold_

\- _Blue Caravan_ , Vienna Teng

**September 28th, 2002. Day 11 of the quarantine**

Sarah woke surrounded by an incredible warmth. She sighed and sank deeper into the feeling, her fingers wrapped in long strands of silver-gold hair.

Eyes still coming into focus, it took her a moment to register where she was. She thought she was in the underground for one panicked second, but a car honked on the street down below, and she relaxed.

Dreams plagued her all night, showing her Aldric, Jareth, her friends Rhonda, and Brock, all in various states of danger. She had to help them while they screamed at her to hurry. And it had morphed into her standing alone in a wide field ringed by pine trees. The earth was shaking, but not like an earthquake. Like footsteps. Jareth's hand had slipped into her own, and they were dancing. Dancing while something enormous crashed through the forest toward them.

Whatever it had been, she never saw, and now the details of the events were slipping out of her mind like sand through splayed fingers.

Something tapped her shoulder, and she lifted her head, hair falling in a gentle wave across her back. She was pressed against the Goblin King's side, one leg was thrown over his and his arm around her, hand curling near her waist. His other arm was flung up over his head. She frowned and looked around.

Something tapped her shoulder again.

Sarah jolted upright, and Jareth startled awake. "What is it?"

"Something keeps touching my shoulder," Sarah said, and the sensation returned as she spoke, making her whip her head around. Nothing was there.

Jareth's head fell back on his pillow, and he pressed his forearm over his eyes, scowling. "That's Aldric. He's summoning you." His other hand gestured lazily to the opposite wall, where the fireplace was. "I'm sure there's a portal around here somewhere."

The tapping continued, the breaks between growing shorter. She brushed at the spot with her fingers, and the skin jumped under her touch. "Rude," she groused, sliding from the bed. She wore an oversized t-shirt and underwear, still not entirely comfortable being nude around Jareth. He had no such issue. Naked, his eyes still covered, and his legs spread a little, the only thing he sported was the pendant. As she looked, she let her gaze linger lower, a flush spreading across her cheeks at the sight of his stiff cock laying long against his hip.

Touching him last night had been exquisite. He burned so hot, the splash of his seed almost searing her skin. Her core turned liquid as she imagined what it would be like to feel that heated weight between her thighs. She squeezed them together now, and Jareth chuckled.

"You're staring."

He had not uncovered his eyes. Sarah stuck her tongue out at him and turned on her heel, ignoring the incessant taps on her shoulder. An ornate gilded mirror hung in the hallway where one had not been before, the mirrored surface shimmering like a mirage. When she passed it, the scent of ozone came sharp to her nose. She quickened her steps and slipped into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Yesterday she had prepared her outfit and a small backpack of supplies. She did not want to eat or drink anything from the underground, and the day before the heat in Aldric's tent had been uncomfortable, drying her throat. A silver and glass carafe of clear water and two goblets sat on a table near her the entire four hours, but she never touched it.

The backpack held two bottles of water, granola bars, tampons, a sewing kit, a blank notebook, pens, and a small assortment of other odds and ends she thought she might find useful. The sort of things she might ask to borrow from a trusted friend, but would be reticent to ask for from a tricksome fae.

Sarah dressed quickly in flared jeans and a floral, layered blouse, then popped into the bathroom before giving the mirror in the hallway another long look. Jareth padded toward her. He had thrown on a pair of pants, but the top button was undone, and they hung extremely low on his hips, drawing her eye. He smirked, his walk turning into a swagger. "Still staring?"

"Shut up."

"You can do more than look, Sarah. You can touch."

Heat filled her face again, and she lifted her gaze to his. "You're incorrigible."

A warm laugh came from behind her, and Sarah whirled, finding Aldric looking out through the mirror. "She has you there, brother."

Jareth went still, stopping within her reach. "What are you doing? If you slip—"

"I'll be stuck with the two of you. Wouldn't that be fun? Never fear, brother, I mastered portals while you were still in your swaddling clothes."

Lips pulled back in a snarl, Jareth took a step forward. "Even for you, this is too great a risk to take. Go back."

"Not without Sarah," Aldric countered, then turned his attention to her, his expression warming. "It's time."

"We never established a set time for me to visit you. It's still morning. I have all day." She frowned at him. "Impatient?"

"When it comes to you? Always. Come now, Jareth is going to be apoplectic if I don't leave soon. Do you see his face? Oh, he hates me." Aldric grinned and extended his gloved hand, stopping shy of the shimmering surface of the mirror. "Take my hand."

Jareth's gripped her fingers before she could respond and tugged her to his side. His breath was against her skin a moment later. "Never trust him," he whispered. "Never. Please."

Sarah nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. "I'll be fine."

He nipped her ear, and she resisted the urge to shiver. "Be smart."

She pulled out of his grip and took a deep breath, facing the mirror and the waiting fae. His head was tilted to the side a little, as though he were considering something of great importance, but he flashed a brilliant smile, crooking his fingers.

Sarah stepped up to the mirror and slipped her hand through the surface. Aldric's hand closed over hers an instant later, the grip strong but not bruising. The next thing she knew, she was in that strange pressing darkness, and they were in his tent, and the sounds of the camp were loud around them.

The tent was much the same as it had been yesterday. A solid-looking bed, wide enough for several people, took up one corner, but most of the space was taken up by an enormous table that had been empty when she was here last, but now had a spread of maps upon it. The book she had been reading was on the table by the bed, not where she had placed it next to one of the wide leather camp chairs.

Gloved fingers squeezed hers, and she turned her attention to Aldric. "I have a surprise planned."

Sarah studied him. He dressed all in black today, the silver of his talisman brilliant against the inky fabric. His copper-brown hair curled a little at the ends and did not have Jareth's extreme layers. She was struck by the desire to touch it, to see if it was as soft as his brother's. She pulled her hand out of his grip instead. "What is it?"

Aldric flashed a smile. "A surprise. Come."

Leading her through the tent flap, he walked them through his war camp. Sarah had only seen it in flashes in the mirrors Jareth had raised and heard it while she was here the last two times.

It was like a miniature town, but all the citizens were out and interacting with one another—most tents rolled up to show their shaded interiors. Soldiers dressed in red armor—some a gleaming metal, others dull leather—and strode side by side with what Sarah presumed were friends and family. Regular-looking people, except there was a prevalence of mismatched eyes and sharp smiles. They had an otherworldly quickness to them, a way of moving which exuded a liquid grace. But more than half looked human.

The breeze blew dry and hot, glittery dirt hard-packed beneath their feet. The air smelled of ozone and sweat, roasting meats, and the sour tang of ale. High above, an eagle screamed, and in the distance, she could hear the occasional battle cry from dozens of voices going through their drills.

There were cook tents and dining tents, blacksmith tents, general merchants, and rows and rows of barracks. While the atmosphere seemed oddly festive, there was still a rigid undercurrent of discipline. None of the soldiers slouched, and they were ever-observant, their gaze finding Aldric as he moved through the aisles between tents, and drifting to the mortal walking behind him. They would often stop in their tracks and salute their leader with a fist across their chest, but they quickly relaxed as Aldric passed by. By contrast, when they saw Sarah, they either displayed open hostility—bearing their teeth and hissing as she passed—or they looked intrigued.

She quickened her step, gripping the straps of her backpack so tight they creaked in protest. Glancing at Aldric, she caught him looking at her, an amused smile curling his lips. "What?" she asked.

His voice was a velvet caress that made her shiver even under the hot red sun. "I merely enjoy seeing you come to my side. Willingly."

She almost dropped back again at those words but gritted her teeth. "Yeah? Well, don't read too much into it. They're not giving me the warmest of welcomes."

Aldric chuckled, low and seductive, and her palms began to sweat. "There are so many rumors, and many of them are about you and my sworn enemy. You did come to negotiations with his power draped over you. I could smell it. So could they."

They neared the edge of the camp, where a line of spikes and ditches separated the tented city from the wilderness beyond. Outside the bounds of the camp, scraggly bushes and twisted, wind-bent trees slowly gave way to a sparse forest, limbs reaching high into the air. It was in this direction that Aldric took them, mounting the slight rise, sweat beading at her forehead and dripping down her back as she went.

They walked in silence, Sarah losing herself in thoughts of what Aldric had said about the rumors, and if she felt entirely safe around the strange soldiers. The line of her thinking moved to the night before. Of Jareth's breath upon her skin. The way his chest rumbled like thunder when he growled, and the searing heat of him as he slipped—

"There," Aldric said, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced at him, and he was pointing toward a break in the trees, right at the crest of the hill they had been slowly climbing. "Come. I've already lost more than an hour of your time."

Sarah flushed. "Says the man who wasn't around when I was here yesterday."

"Ah, but war waits for no one, dear."

She blinked at the endearment but decided not to comment. "You're not going to war for a few weeks, at least."

Aldric laughed as they broke the line of trees and strode through the broad meadow. "Is that so?"

Sarah stopped walking, narrowing her eyes at Aldric as he turned, his head tilted in a way so similar to Jareth that she blinked, taken aback by the family resemblance. "We have a deal. You're not allowed to strike at Jareth until after the quarantine is lifted. That's why I'm here."

"Bold of you to assume that Jareth is my only concern," he said. "Where do you think you are, Sarah, my dear? Do you truly believe that the Labyrinth would be my first or solitary conquest?" He strode the short distance between them, and she backed up a step, but he slid right back into her space. She swallowed on a dry throat, eyes widening. " _That_ is how rare you are." He raised a gloved hand and traced the air around her face. He radiated heat against her sweat-cooled skin. "I would sacrifice much for you."

Sarah's mouth fell open for a moment before she withdrew several steps. This time, Aldric stayed put. When there was a good few feet between them, Sarah let out the breath she had been holding. Her voice came out sounding a little hoarse. "What are you playing at?"

"Play? This is not a game. Or if it were, it would be of the highest stakes imaginable." He gestured her to follow him, turning as he did so. "This will help explain things."

They reached the top of the hill, a bald crown encircled with trees, their coiling branches reaching high. Sarah gazed out and saw the Labyrinth, looking like a massive stone fingerprint against a scraggy, windswept prairie, a tiny castle visible at its heart. Her heart squeezed at the sight. _That's where he means to take me_ , she thought. _That's the future Jareth holds for me._

She shuddered, and her stomach soured at the still-fresh memories of the night before. She glanced over to Aldric, who gave her a broad smile, then held out his hand. "Just the tiniest bit further."

Sarah ignored his offering, and he shrugged, turning. _And what is it that Aldric wants? What is the real goal here?_

When Aldric stopped, Sarah almost bumped into him, still entranced by the vision of the Labyrinth. She sidestepped him and glanced over to find a stormy expression on his face. Startled, she looked to where his gaze was locked and let out a little gasp of surprise.

Before them were two marble statues, about five feet tall. They depicted women who appeared to be twins and, upon further consideration, also reminded Sarah of the man by her side, and the one waiting for her back home.

"He would not bring their bodies back home," Aldric said, his voice little more than a murmur against the warm wind, and laced through with a venom that made her move a bit further away. "He said they died here, so they would be buried here." He swallowed, his throat moving with the motion. "We have an empty tomb at the Seelie court. One of the reasons I'm here is to bring them back to their proper resting place. Not here, on this gods-forsaken hill overlooking the kingdom of their betrayer, but to where they can be properly respected and remembered."

"Your sisters," Sarah said, remembering what Jareth had told her before. _Faerie is not a forgiving place._ "You started a war to get your sisters back?"

Aldric scoffed, mismatched gaze finding her. "I would have torn the world down to keep them safe and alive. What do you think I would do to the person who killed them?"

Sarah gasped, hand to her throat. "Jareth? You're saying—"

"That your suitor and housemate is a murderer? Yes." He motioned at the statues. "My sisters, Kieryn and Reganne, were older than me by only thirty years. They were twins. Do you know how rare twins are among the fae, dear Sarah? Kieryn held her breath until Reganne was born, then they cried out together. They did everything as a unit, including setting their sights on the hidden magic of the Labyrinth."

"Hidden? What do you mean?" She glanced between the vision of the Labyrinth in the distance and Aldric.

Aldric closed his mismatched eyes for a moment and leveled his stare on her. "Two hundred and fifty years ago, the Labyrinth had been a crumbling ruin for over a thousand years. Any who attempted to conquer it were never heard from again, though the rumor persisted that at the very heart of the grand structure was a power greater than any other that could be found in Faerie. My sisters believed, as many did, that as twins, they were blessed by the gods. They studied the crumbling texts and histories of the Labyrinth. No one knows who built it, or why, or the reason they abandoned it so long ago. The flora and fauna of the place are like nothing that can be found in any other part of Faerie." He gestured toward the twisting stone walls. "And until my brother _conquered_ the Labyrinth, no one had seen any of the goblins that live within. Now the things are like cockroaches." He scowled. "When I kill my brother and take his power, they will be the first things to go."

Sarah felt her face grow cold.

Aldric continued on, seeming not to notice how pale she had grown. "Kieryn and Reganne planned their expedition for over a century, but they still acquiesced when their baby brother wanted so badly to go with them, even though he had done none of the preparations. He was not blessed like they were." His voice went soft. "I still don't understand why they let him come. He was no more than fifty. Barely past the age where we come into our first flush of power. Jareth." He bared his teeth. "He killed our mother, too, you know. Killed her coming out. Our sisters never blamed him. Raised him as their own, even. Perhaps that is why they brought him along.

"There were dozens of us there to see them off. The last time I ever saw those two alive was seeing their backs as the doors to the Labyrinth closed behind them. They didn't look back. They were probably too confident of their future success." Aldric took a deep breath, his gaze caught and locked on the statues. "Thirteen hours later, there was a ripple through the area. The ruins rebuilt themselves instantly, becoming something like what you can see now—and I thought my sisters successful. I waited eagerly with others of my family and my kind, watching the front gate. But it was only _he_ who emerged. The only one alive, at the least."

"What happened?" Sarah asked, unable to help herself. "What happened when Jareth was in the Labyrinth with your sisters?"

Aldric shook his head and took a step toward her. "The only thing he said was that it was his fault. Other than that, he never spoke a word. I would have killed him right then, at that moment, but my father stopped me. He was so obsessed with the new magic, the _power_ coming off of Jareth, that he refused to do anything even though my brother _confessed_ to Kieryn and Reganne's deaths." A smile curved his lips. "But father died some years ago. No one dares stand between me and my revenge now."

Silence fell like an anvil, and Sarah's throat tightened, looking up into Aldric's face. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"Would a compact help? You have one with my brother, do you not?"

"I'm not going to enter into another agreement with you. You've already got me here four hours a day." _Plus_ , she thought, _I'm not going to be forced into kissing another fae man._ One was enough.

"You need do nothing," Aldric said. "I will simply swear to it." He put a gloved hand over his chest. "I swear upon my heart's blood, I will always speak the truth to you."

Ozone was sharp in her nose a moment later, and a pressure crested and snapped, making her ears pop. Sarah gasped, feeling the pull of the spell now. A question tumbled from her lips before she could stop it. "What you just told me about your sisters, about Jareth, was that true?"

"Every word of it." His eyes seemed to burn. "You can feel the truth of that, can't you?"

Sarah nodded, for it was true was a bone-deep certainty she had come to expect from Jareth's own answered questions. "You wanted nothing in return. Why?"

"Because it is enough you know I'm honest. Because I want you to trust me, and I do not want to rely on tricks and deals to win your affection." He lay a gentle touch on her raised chin. "I can see it in your spellwork. You owe him something if you lie or refuse to answer a question. Isn't that right?"

"How can you see that?" She stammered.

"Do you think I came to command armies by accident, sweet Sarah? I am here because I know more about magic and its subtleties than almost any other warrior now living. There are songs sung in my honor in the Seelie court. My name will go down in history along with some of our greatest heroes."

Sarah moved back a little, out of his reach. "That's a hell of an ego."

"It is a fact. Jareth, on the other hand, is an outlier. He hasn't been seen at the Seelie court in over a century. His allies are few. He keeps entirely to his own small circle other than gifting wished-away infants to the High King and Queen. The only reason that no one has come after his kingdom before now is because I have laid claim to it." He closed the distance between them again. "Jareth killed my sisters. He took the power that was meant for them and hoarded it for two hundred and fifty years. _That_ is who you kiss when you let him kiss you."

She flushed hot. "And you're telling me that you've never killed anyone? You're a warrior, you said, surely you have blood on your hands."

"Oh, plenty, and you tell it true. I have killed. Many times. But none of those who died at my hand were innocent like my sisters. They—" he made a frustrated sound, and his voice lowered enough Sarah leaned in a little to hear him. "Most fae have darkness inside of them, but not Kieryn. Not Reganne. They were pure. They delighted in knowledge and philosophy, and poetry. They danced like mist will dance along the surface of a still lake. When they were lost, the entire Seelie court mourned." His gaze went back to the statues. "They should have been buried there, with full honors, next to mother. No one comes here. They should be somewhere they can be _seen_."

There was real grief in his voice, and Sarah reached out without thinking about it, placing her hand on his arm. His attention snapped back to her, and she withdrew, stammering yet again. "I'm sorry, I—"

Aldric pulled her to him. She bounced a little off his chest before both his arms were around her, wrapping her in a warm embrace. When he spoke, she felt it as much as she heard it. "Thank you. I've never told this story to another person before. Everyone knows."

Sarah relaxed a little, feeling the truth in his words and, tentatively, put her arms around him in return. _It's a hug_ , she told herself. _Nothing more._

After a few more heartbeats, Aldric pulled away, and Sarah did the same, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking anywhere but at him. _It was just a hug_. Her stomach felt queasy, as though she had done something wrong. She folded her hands across her chest, looking out to the Labyrinth again. "So, no one knew about the goblins until Jareth?"

"No one," Aldric agreed, and started walking again, moving along the periphery of the trees, his posture relaxed. The wind rippled at his loose shirt, plastering it against his body to show off his lithe figure. Sarah grabbed a bottle of water out of her backpack and downed half of it in one go, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Aldric watched her while they meandered, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. "You know, you can trust the food and drink I provide you are not going to send you into delirium."

Sarah gave him a sidelong look. "Forgive me if I bring my own supplies."

They chatted a little more as they walked, side by side, down the hill and back to the camp. They skirted around the subject of Jareth, though her head reeled with the possible implications of Aldric's story. No wonder the people here hated her if they thought she was shacking up with a murderer. Sarah found herself growing more anxious, the closer they got to the sounds of practice drills. Aldric stopped her with a few fingers on the back of her hand. "If it bothers you too much to walk through the camp, I can will us directly into my tent."

Sarah cast him an exasperated look. "You mean you could have transported us the entire time?"

"I thought you could use the stroll. You are holed up in that small apartment day in, day out. I've been involved in sieges. I know how difficult confinement can be." He said this in a matter-of-fact voice, his hand slipping away from hers.

Sarah blinked and realized, upon reflection, she _did_ feel better. A few hours in the woods—even a strange, windswept one—had been a much-needed diversion. It had been days since Jareth last made an _aisling_. Days since she had seen much outside the canvas walls of tents or the same beige-colored walls of her apartment. She took a deep breath of the clean, warm air. "Yeah, if you could transport us back to your tent, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course," he said, taking a step toward her. She immediately took one back, and he frowned at her. "I have to touch you for this to work. And I promise I will not harm you while you are under my care. There is no need to flinch from me."

Her cheeks burned again, but she said nothing and did not move when he stepped toward her again. He lay a hand on her shoulder, and, between one blink and the next, they went from standing on the sparsely treed hillside to the cool dimness of Aldric's tent. Sarah blinked against the gloom, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the tent's dim interior. It was cooler within than it was outside, and she felt some of the sweat on her neck, cooling in the still air.

Aldric kept his hand on her shoulder for a long few moments before letting it drop. "It's nearing the end of the fourth hour. You are almost free to go home."

"How soon?"

"Another twenty minutes."

She was standing too close to him. Embarrassed, she moved away, slinging her backpack onto one of the leather camp chairs. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she knew Aldric was watching her. His presence was far too intense not to be felt. She cast about for something, anything, to talk about. She glanced back at him. "How did your father die?"

Aldric blinked, but took a seat on the edge of the large table, arms folded over his chest, and said, "He faded. It's what happens to fae that reach a certain... end. When there is nothing left they strive for. When there is no other reason to live, they don't."

Sarah felt gooseflesh erupt down her back. "You can just decide to die?"

"Yes. Can't you?"

"Not like that." She rubbed her arms, feeling chilled. "I can't even imagine."

Aldric continued to regard her, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore his gaze. "And what of you? Your father, your mother, siblings?"

Sarah let out a huff of laughter. "My mother abandoned my dad and me when I was little. I was eight. It took him years to get over it, and then he met Karen. He and Karen had Toby, my little brother, who's turning eighteen in... god, in just a week. Poor thing. He's stuck in Russia, and dad—" she stopped herself, realizing with a shiver that she was falling for it. If Aldric was trying to gain her trust so he could find leverage over her, she had just handed him a massive pile of information. She finally met his eyes, her own widening. "I—"

"There's no need to fear me, Sarah. Gods, I can hear your heart pounding from here. Calm down." There was a hint of exasperation in his voice.

She narrowed her eyes. "Listen, I don't know you, but I know enough about the fae to know that I made a huge mistake. You don't need to know anything about my family."

"I disagree." Aldric slid off the table and approached her, his gaze intense. She gulped as he stopped out of reach. "There is much and more I would do for you, dear Sarah. Tell me, what ails your father?"

Her eyes widened even more. "What? How did you know?"

His smile was wicked. "I guessed. You ceased talking quite suddenly just as you mentioned your father, and you were talking about something bad from the lead-up. It seemed only logical."

Sarah cursed, hugging herself.

"Come, come, Sarah. I can help. Tell me what is wrong, and we'll work to fix it."

She closed her eyes, remembering her father's pale, pained face. Remembering she could do nothing to help her father while quarantine remained in effect, and he had a penchant for overdoing it.

His whisper was like a caress. "Tell me, Sarah."

The words were slipping from her lips without conscious thought, rushing from her like water. "My father had a heart attack. The doctors say he's going to make a full recovery, but having one heart attack is a prescription to a second or a third. It's how his father died, and his brother."

Silence draped over them for a moment, and Aldric's velvet voice said, "I could fix it for you. Your father will still die one day, but I can guarantee it will not be through fault of his heart. It will beat sound until the moment he draws his last breath."

Sarah sucked in a breath of her own and lifted her gaze to his. "Truly?"

"It is within my power, if—"

"I knew it," she hissed, cutting him off. "This is going to be another bargain, isn't it?"

"I ask for so little," Aldric insisted. "Just another hour, and only for the length of our original bargain. One more hour of your time, Sarah, and you can guarantee your father need never suffer through such a thing again."

She chewed at her bottom lip, shaking with fury that she had allowed herself to walk into this trap. Jareth had warned her. Warned her, and yet—yet, if she accepted his proposal, it would only be another hour, and only for a few weeks. That was _nothing_ when it came to fixing a human heart. She swallowed on a dry throat and croaked out, "Fine. I agree."

Aldric grinned and made a sweeping gesture with one arm. "It will be done, my lady." He bowed a bit, bringing him closer to her, and she turned away. Sarah shrugged on her backpack, the twenty minutes up any moment if they weren't already. Her stomach in knots, she did not look at Aldric until his hands came down on her shoulders, thumbs brushing against her neck. "Remember what I told you," he said, his voice soft and earnest. "He is not what you think."

"And you are?"

His smile was slight. "I will never lie to you. And I will never keep an answer from you. Is that not respectable?"

Sarah did not respond, and a moment later, the portal mirror shimmered into existence on her right. She stared at him. "Let me go."

Aldric's hands dropped from her shoulders, linen-clad fingers brushing against her neck at the last moment, making her shiver. She glared at him, at the self-satisfied smirk he flashed her, before turning and striding through the hazy surface of the mirror and through the other side into an apartment bright with mid-morning sunshine.

Jareth moved toward her, concern clear on his face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Sarah bit back a sigh of frustration. _When it's not one, it's the other._ She wanted to have a little time to herself, to think. "Nothing," she said, trying not to think how she would have to explain the longer-than-average disappearances into the underground. And if she were honest, it wasn't her new bargain with Aldric that was twisting her stomach into knots. It was what Aldric had told her about their sisters. _I didn't even know their names until today._ Jareth reached for her, and she pulled away. "I need to put this down," she said, lifting her pack. "And I'm going to take a shower."

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, but then his mouth firmed into a hard line. "Of course, precious."

Sarah skirted by him and ducked into the bedroom first, dropping off the backpack and gathering her things before hopping into the shower. She felt Jareth's gaze on her back as she moved between the rooms, but ignored him.

She took her time under the hot spray, scrubbing the dirt and grit from the underground off her body before standing there, unmoving, until the supply of warm water finally petered out. Sarah stared at herself in the fogged mirror for a long time, hair dripping down her back and hands clasped before her, holding the towel closed over her chest. She stood like that as a knock sounded on the door, soft at first, and louder when she did not answer.

When Jareth opened the door, a rush of cold air made her skin erupt into goosebumps. She shivered even as Jareth put his hands on her shoulders, mirroring the position she and Aldric had been in the moment before she left. She looked up into those mismatched eyes, blue and brown, and wanted to slap him. Or kiss him. She wanted to shake him to demand answers, and she wanted him to hold her.

Jareth brushed her shoulders like he was dusting her off, and she felt warm fabric around her body, and the soft swish of hair against her back. She glanced down and found herself in a pair of black lounge pants and a long v-necked shirt that hugged her figure. She was not wearing a bra or underwear, and she could feel she was no longer damp from the shower. The towel was neatly folded on the rack once more.

"Come with me, Sarah," he said, voice and touch gentle.

She let him lead her out of the bathroom, bare feet meeting at first the hardwood of her hallway before stepping onto slick cobblestones. Glancing up, Sarah saw something that took her breath away. "Paris," she said. "You have an _aisling_ for Paris?"

"Just this small corner café, here," he gestured toward a sea of tiny two-seater tables. "They have the best macarons."

Sarah felt a smile tug at her lips. "I hear that fae love their sweets."

"Indeed, we do. Or, at least, I do. Here," he pulled a chair out for her. "Sit down. We'll have a feast and talk about whatever you like."

She hesitated, but took the offered seat, and leaned in a little when he brushed the back of his fingers against her jawline. Then she looked at the table and saw not only the promised macarons, but every type of French pastry she had ever seen on TV or in those cooking magazines Karen had gotten for her. Madeleines, opera cakes, chocolate croissants, canelé, mille-feuille, and Tarte Tatin crowded for space on a three-tiered dessert plate. The smell of it was fantastic, and Sarah felt her mouth beginning to water. She had not touched the granola bars in her backpack, and it had been a long hike with Aldric.

Jareth helped himself to a canelé and two macarons, then motioned to Sarah. "Eat. Or would you prefer something more savory? Coq au vin? Bouillabaisse?"

"This is fine," she said. "I'm just not sure where to start." She reached for a chocolate croissant, then changed her mind and went for the Tarte Tatin. "I haven't had some of these since I visited France after college." She cut a bite of the tart and closed her eyes in bliss as the caramelized apple melted across her tongue.

Jareth watched her, and he seemed to be trying not to make a show of it as he tucked into his own meal. For a while, they passed the time in silence, Sarah looking around as she ate. Blackbirds and pigeons occasionally graced the sky, and the sun was near set, casting them into an indigo twilight. But this twilight never faded, never changed. It was quite unlike the _aislings_ where there was a long spread of ocean or jungle. It very much felt like an intimate place, despite the dozens of empty seats beside them.

Sarah sighed and set her napkin across the pastry. Part of her was still hungry, but another part of her was in knots over her new knowledge of Jareth's sisters. She looked up to him, and he gave her a slight smile. _Might as well come out with it_. "Aldric took me to your sister's graves today."

Jareth went preternaturally still, a bite of food halfway to his lips. "Did he now?"

There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes that made Sarah want to squirm in her seat. How did someone talk about this sort of thing? "He told me his version of the events that lead to Kieryn and Reganne's death. I want to know your side of the story. I know you have one."

He flinched as Sarah spoke their names, dropping his plate back on the table with a clatter. "I don't speak on it," he said. "I've never talked about it to anyone."

Sarah's chest grew heavy. "I'm not just anyone," she whispered.

Jareth closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter, Sarah. I don't talk about it, and I won't talk about it."

"Don't do this," she said. "Don't shut me out when all I have are Aldric's words ringing in my head. I don't want to believe what he says about you is true. I don't want to believe that's the person you are." She reached for him across the table, her hand an entreat. "Please, Jareth."

His eyes flashed open, then narrowed. "You know he's doing this on purpose, don't you? He's telling you the darkest secrets of my life, hoping to pull you from me. And he won't settle for simply taking you away from me. He'll want you for himself."

"I know," Sarah said, hand still resting on the table between them. "But even if he's doing that, he's still telling me _something_ about your past. I know nothing about you, Jareth. You don't talk about your life, not really. At least Aldric—"

"Don't," Jareth whispered. "Don't you dare compare me to him."

Sarah's mouth shut with an audible click, and she withdrew her hand. "What happened with your sisters, Jareth? That's an official question."

He scowled at her then rose, his chair flying back at the motion. "I'll only tell you that he's right. They're dead because of me. I will never deny it. But as for your question, I refuse to answer. Name your task."

Sarah stood as well, arms crossed over her chest. She cast her gaze around, then pointed to the open storefront of a grocer. "Count the grains of rice in that bag there," she said, pointing toward a twenty-five-pound sack.

Jareth's scowl deepened, but he swept past her, heading for his task.

Sarah watched him for a moment as he opened the bag and poured its contents into a conjured cauldron, then sat on the ground cross-legged near it and began sifting through the individual grains, eyes flickering as he rapidly counted each one. Sarah turned and found the gap in the _aisling_ where her hallway entrance opened up and went straight for her bedroom.

Sarah collapsed backward onto her bed after putting on _Jagged Little Pill_ at full volume, careless of the neighbors. Arms spread out to either side, she looked at the swirling patterns on the plaster of her ceiling.

 _Counting the rice should take Jareth most of the day to do_. And it served him right.

Sarah rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow to her chest. Pretending her chest wasn't tight. Pretending that tears were not burning at the corners of her eyes.

_I thought if he could tell anyone, it would be me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I was going to upload this on Friday but I just couldn't wait. I may have outlined the whole fic the other day, and things may be going a little quicker than normal because of it. Maybe.
> 
> That's all I'm going to say on that subject.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. Please remember that reviews are AMAZING and help motivate writers to write :)
> 
> Xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen 

_Jareth_

_Tell me this_

_Does any of this love exist_

_Or is it just a fire_

_Keeping out the cold_

_Fear of the unknown_

_Turning us to coal_

\- _My Own_ , Whitaker

 **September 29** **th** **, 2002. Day 12 of quarantine**.

Jareth made sure he rose before Sarah and that coffee was prepared by the time she emerged from her bedroom, looking soft and rumpled, smelling of almonds and jasmine. She squinted at him standing in the kitchen, then shrugged and came forward, reaching for the mug he offered her. "I believe I put in the correct portions," he murmured.

Sarah lifted an eyebrow and took a sip, saying nothing. She shuffled out of the kitchen and to one of the bar stools on the other side, plopping down with a sigh. Her gaze went to the bed they had shared, and her cheeks went pink. With a wave of his hand, Jareth made the room go back to normal and saw her shoulders visibly relax.

"Sarah—"

"Don't," she said, taking another sip of her coffee and staring at the windows on the far wall. "I don't want to hear apologies or excuses or anything. I just want to sit and have a cup of coffee and wake up a little, okay?"

Jareth moved into the living room and pulled a book from the shelves— _Grendel_ by John Gardner—taking it to his favored chair and sitting down to read. _If she wants to play this game, let her be the one to break the silence._ He had time. He could be patient.

Sarah made a noise of disgust and got up, walking to her desk by the windows and settling down in the office chair. That put her behind Jareth's back, and he relaxed into the story, keeping his ears open for movement.

She booted up her computer, and he heard her typing for a while, occasionally muttering to herself about clients, deadlines, and the lack of work. She stomped past him and then back again with a refill on her drink.

Piano music from above drifted through the ceiling. _Nuvole Bianche_ , by the sounds of it, and gorgeously executed. Jareth would give Mr. Palermo his due—he was an excellent pianist.

Sarah sighed as the song continued, and he heard the distinctive rumble of her chair wheels on the hardwood floor. She came into sight a moment later, hands on her hips. He did a swift assessment. She wore plaid pajama shorts and a black tank top and tapped her foot as he watched. "I have to tell you something, but you're going to have to promise not to get upset."

Jareth blinked. He had not been expecting this opening line. He closed the book on his finger, setting it in his lap. "What is it, precious?"

She let out a breath and shut her eyes for a moment before saying, "I made another deal with Aldric. I'm going to be spending five hours in the underground each day from here on out."

Jareth swallowed back the urge to leap to his feet and grasp her shoulders, to shake her and demand why she had done such a thing. There was a _snap_ sound, and he looked down to find his fist had closed around the pages of the book, shredding the paper. He let the destroyed book go before tapping the spine, fixing the damage.

Sarah took a step back. "Okay, that was—listen, it was for my father. For his heart. Aldric said—"

"Please," Jareth managed to say, his voice shaking. "Please do not say his name right now."

What had he told her the day before? He had tried to warn her that his brother would pull something like this. He had even admonished her to _be smart_. How had she let this happen?

 _Because it's her father_.

If it had been within Jareth's power to do, he would have done the same without demand for payment, but healing had never been one of his strengths. And the forces of the Labyrinth were not slated toward the medicinal. He could have soothed Robert's dreams or created vast palaces for him to visit through illusion, but never this.

Jareth rose from his chair, careful to make his motions smooth and not intimidating. "I apologize for the book. I did not mean to scare you."

"Scare me? No, Jareth—"

"But you should never have taken that deal," he said, and there was a trace of a snarl, his lips curling in an involuntary motion. "I am a _king_ , Sarah. Do you think I do not have healers at my disposal?"

"I—"

"No," he interrupted again, taking a step toward her. "No, I don't think you understand what you've done. It's not just another hour, Sarah. You've proven that you're still willing to walk straight into a deal. He will never give up trying to find other ways to keep you close to him. He will never relent. And he is worse than you can imagine—"

"How?" She demanded, stepping forward to meet him. "All that he's done so far is give me a book about people like me, tell me about your sisters—something you refuse to do—and heal my father's heart. _You_ kidnapped my brother the first time we met."

Jareth threw his hands up. "Kidnapped? I did what was bid of me by you."

She scoffed. "I was fifteen."

"Old enough to know to be careful what you wish for, and we had this argument before. When I first came to you. The first several times I came for you." He folded his arms over his chest. "I thought we had settled this. I am not your enemy."

She tilted her head, expression severe. "Settled this? When did we settle this? When you had your tongue down my throat?" She flushed a deep crimson as she said this. "You broke into my brother's dreams, told him god knows what and convinced him to tell me to forgive you."

Jareth took a step back, arms dropping to his sides. His stomach plummeted. "Is that what you think?"

"I think that you know what effect you have on me, and you exploit it. You use it to distract me from getting to understand you, understand Faerie, understand all this," she gestured around her. "And then you get upset with me when I find answers somewhere else."

Jareth chewed his words, unsure of how to respond.

"I'm tired of this, Jareth. I want you to explain things to me. I _want_ to hear your side of things, but you shut me out every time I try. Why?"

The weight of their compact came with that last question, and Jareth gritted his teeth, half wanting to refuse the answer. But he had been counting rice in his dreams last night because of her. "Why would I tell you anything, Sarah precious?" He said instead, taking a slow step toward her, glowering. "It is an exercise in futility to attempt to get you to understand anything, evidently."

"That's not fair," she whispered.

His lip curled. "And you would be an expert in that, wouldn't you?" He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her. The spellwork still stretched between them, demanding an answer. He sighed. "I don't shut you out all the time, Sarah. I've told you more about my life than I've told anyone else since—" he let out a growl and threw up his hands. "Do you know what Aldric has done? How he has terrorized me over the centuries? If you wish to blame someone, blame him."

Sarah stared at him, stubbornness evident in the set of her mouth and the gleam in her eyes.

Jareth knew that he had to give her more information, more to work off, but it went against years of training. His body was shaking as he clenched his fists at his sides. The air felt hot and pressurized, and he wished that he could create an _aisling_ and run. Flee this moment and what it would mean.

He took a deep, steadying breath. "I was only fifty years old when I became Goblin King or the king in the Labyrinth. Most of my kind do not marry until well into their second century if that's any indication of scale. It is unheard of for someone to acquire the power and position I did at that age. I had not spent centuries growing ties, alliances, or friendships. I had cradle-mates, childhood friends of roughly the same age, and some family who were kind to me, but other than that, I was ill-equipped to have a kingdom.

"My father helped me, at first, until he began to fade. Because of him, I have treaties with the Seelie and Unseelie court, and I have facilitated trade between goblin-kind and those of the rest of Faerie." His lips curled in a slight smile. "I fear the goblins have made more a nuisance of themselves and often prize items that put them at a disadvantage. Nevertheless, my kingdom began to take shape, to find its place in Faerie society, until my father fully faded when I was eighty. And that's when Aldric struck."

She tilted her head, saying nothing.

Jareth sighed. "All my friends, all my allies, Aldric found some way to them through the years. He managed to disembowel Elias, my closest friend, in a duel over some imagined slight. He beheaded our cousin when she refused to denounce me." Sarah sucked in a breath, and her eyes widened a little. Jareth could not help the sharp smile that flashed across his face. "Not what you expected to hear about your new confidant? Aldric will have a reason for every one of those deaths. Some tale either real or imaginary, but he will fill your head with stories of all my devious allies until you're almost thanking him for what he did." Jareth spat the last.

"But what has this to do with my original question?" She asked, a dark look in her eye.

Jareth raised a hand, silent in his request for more time. "The answer is not simple. I needed you to understand what I went through, how those years were. My very last friend and ally—aside from those I managed to bring into my court—died ten years ago. Killed by Aldric. And one of those I have close to me, one of the half dozen fae I still consider to be companions, betrayed me with that map you found. I am alone, Sarah," he said the last on a whisper. "Almost everyone I have ever cared for confided in is dead. Dead or potential traitor."

Her expression softened. "Oh."

Jareth felt the tightness in his chest ease a little. "You ask me why I push you away, and that is why. Aldric has trained me over the last two and a half centuries to keep people away for their own safety." He took a step closer, reaching for her, unable to help himself. His fingertips brushed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. "And now he has you in his sights," Jareth murmured. "Perhaps I was too blasé the other night when you came back from the initial negotiations. He's already got you for another hour. I know that he won't stop there, not if he can help it."

Fear, a familiar companion when dealing with his brother, wrapped its cold, sharp talons around his throat. He wanted to pull her close, to hold her—to assure himself that she would remain. _By all the gods that are or ever were or ever will be, please do not let him take her._

Sarah's hand was warm on his, and then she was pulling off his gloves and pressing a kiss into his palm. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said yes to the deal." Her fingers traced the mating bond, the magic that tattooed it there more than skin deep. It was seared into his very bones. "I," she stammered, her face flushing as he gazed at her. "I still want to know everything. I want to know one day you'll tell me because it's _me_ , Jareth." She swallowed. "I care about you."

"Do you, Sarah?" He asked before he could think the better of it.

"Yes," she said, and the truth of her words were a balm to his battered spirit. He closed his eyes as she continued. "I care about you a great deal. I don't want to see you hurt, and I don't want to see you alone. At the very least, you should know that you have me."

_You have me._

The words were like little sips of cold, clear water after a day in the sun. He opened his eyes. "I swear on my heart's blood," he said, reaching for her. "I will tell you everything one day."

The small spell snapped into place, and Sarah gasped just as he grasped her by the waist, his other hand threading through her hair. Her hands slipped up his chest as he bent his head down to her, the kiss met with an echo of his own sharp need.

The brand pulsed. He pushed power into her flesh and was rewarded with a low moan. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders, and she began to tremble as the moment drew on.

He was lost. All was Sarah, her mouth hot and wet and tasting of silver shadows and moonlight. Every sound that came from her came with a caress, a promise. _And gods do I want more of her._ He wanted to claim her, to mark her. To know that she would always be there, just as she said. _You have me._

"Jareth," Sarah moaned. "Touch me, please."

He did, making a swift motion with his hand to bring back the facsimile of his chambers in the castle. Lifting her top off, he gently lowered her to the massive bed. As she slid into the center, he hooked his fingers in the bands of her plaid shorts, pulling them down her long legs.

And there she was. Resplendent among the piles of cushions and layers of furs and silks, the very picture the goddess welcoming her lover. He kissed his way up her body, reverent. Worshipful. "You are a marvel, my precious Sarah." He said against her skin. His hair slithered along her chest, just as he found her peaked nipple and gave it a soft swirl. She arched under him, eyes fluttering closed, and he lay a kiss on her throat before catching her lips once more. Her breast was heavy in his hand until he began to lower it to the downy curls between her thighs, finding her slick and hot.

Jareth took his time teasing her, drinking up the delicious sound of her whimpers with his tongue. Then he plunged his fingers into her, his hips spasming forward as he did, pressing against his own hand and driving him deeper into her.

Sarah broke the kiss with a gasp, legs coming up to wrap themselves around him. "Jareth, you—oh, god." Her head fell back again as he began to move, fingers moving into her while he teased her clit with his thumb. On occasion, he would grind against her, eliciting moans and pleading whispers for more.

He wanted to give it. He wanted to be rid of these clothes so that he could take her, utterly, but he knew she was not ready for that yet. There was still hesitancy in her, and he would be having none of that. Not now, after he had tasted the proof of her desire for him. He would have it all, or nothing.

Jareth dragged his lips across the column of her throat, then lifted his head so that he could watch her as her breath hitched, and she bucked against his hand. "Come for me, Sarah," he whispered, voice low and commanding. She shuddered in his arms, eyes flying open as she clutched him, her whimpers turning into cries as her muscles seized around him.

Sarah called his name, back bowed, so her breasts pressed into his chest, nails scrabbling at his shoulder blades. He bit her neck as she crested—not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough that her grip tightened on his fingers.

Panting, she grasped his face and dragged him up for another kiss, her tongue forceful as it swept into his mouth. He let out a growl, and she pulled back, lust darkening her luminous green eyes. "I want to, but—"

"It means more than just sex," he said. "I know." The little power that had leaked out of her and into him during this interlude was enough to make him heady. Reluctant, he brought his hand away from her, though he slipped those two fingers into his mouth, Sarah watching him with wide eyes. He hummed. "You taste divine."

She shivered. "I didn't know that it could be—I mean, no one ever wanted to, so I just assumed it was unpleasant."

"Not you, my Sarah. Never you." He lay a gentle kiss against her lips. "Shall I give you another demonstration of my enthusiasm for your delectability?"

She giggled, and then the sound cut off with an abruptness that had him raising his head. She scowled. "Aldric is doing the damned tapping thing again."

Jareth grimaced. "Sarah, promise me—"

"I promise I won't make another deal unless it's a life or death situation." She held up three fingers. "Scouts honor."

He tilted his head. "Are you a scout?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, but the sentiment is the same. I will do my very best, Jareth, as I always do."

"Just—sometimes things may appear to be dire, but there really is another way out. I don't want you to make decisions in a blind panic. Remember to breathe, to think."

Now she was scowling at him. She pushed him off her, and he rolled away, sitting on the edge of the bed. She wrapped a shaggy white fur around herself, looking with her mussed hair and sparking, angry eyes, like some kind of arctic warrior maiden. "You're saying I wasn't thinking?"

Jareth resisted the impulse to roll his own eyes. _Here we go again_. What a merry dance they were locked in. "I am merely stressing the importance that you do so moving forward," he said. "I believe he got under your skin. He told you shocking things about me, and in that moment of vulnerability, he struck."

Sarah clutched the fur about her tighter, her head jerking to the side a moment later. No doubt, the summoning was growing more insistent. She said nothing more as she slid from the bed and padded around the corner into her bedroom. Jareth dismissed his room, sitting on the couch's arm. "I gave you my promise," he heard from her room. "That's going to have to be good enough."

Jareth's chest tightened again, and he wanted to go to her to clutch her to him and promise her that he would keep her safe. But until the quarantine lifted and he could traverse the worlds once more, that would not be true. If she had only accepted him before all this, he could have shielded her within the Labyrinth's walls, safe from Aldric.

Or perhaps not.

While Aldric had taken certain advantage of Jareth's absence to launch his attack now, the fact he had been able to get the campaign together so quickly spoke to his preparation. This was always going to happen. Even if Sarah had accepted her position as queen and consort, he might have only painted a larger target on her back.

 _No_ , he thought. _The best way to keep her safe would have been to leave her alone altogether_.

But he could not. Not when she rounded the corner, looking defiant and radiant in her jeans and emerald-green blouse. Jareth rose, feeling the familiar tug that made him want to be closer to her. Ever closer. She frowned at him, hands on her hips, backpack strapped to her back. "Why are you looking at me like that, you—"

He stopped her words with a kiss, pulling her flush against him. He nipped her bottom lip until she parted them, sweeping his tongue down to taste her. She gripped his biceps, nails pressing down through the linen of his shirt. "Be safe," he murmured against her lips a moment later. "Please, just be safe."

"I will," she said on a gasp, arms wrapping around him. She embraced him, her pack making it awkward for him to return the motion. She pulled back. "I'll be home before you know it."

He watched her as she went to the portal mirror in the hallway. She glanced back as she started to step through and shot him a slight smile. He returned it.

And then she was gone.

Jareth stared at the spot on the wall where the portal mirror had been hanging up until a moment ago. Oppressive silence bore down around him, and as he shifted on his feet, the floorboards creaked beneath him, loud in the stillness.

As he had the last two times Sarah had gone into the underground, Jareth summoned up his own mirror, spying on the camp that was still entrenched a half-mile from the Labyrinth's walls. He began counting the soldiers he could see—a mixture of human and fae—coming to the same general conclusion. Two thousand. Two thousand soldiers in open war against his kingdom, armed with the map showing the Labyrinth's shifting corridors.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the view portal. There was a temptation, as always, to use it to spy on Aldric and Sarah, but Aldric would be aware the moment Jareth put eyes on him. That was one of his brother's many gifts.

Jareth pulled a book from Sarah's shelves. It was the romance she had been trying to hide from him several days ago when she had sang for him. He climbed out on the fire escape with it, sitting with his back to the window frame and getting lost in stories of flying pirate ships and luckless lovers.

Hector slid out of the window a story above him sometime later, silent as he lit a cigarette, the sounds of raucous laughter and running footsteps indicative of the chaotic family life within the apartment behind him. Jareth peered up at the man—an aging Italian with more gray than black in his short hair—and called out a greeting. "Good afternoon, Hector."

The man looked down with black eyes, a wide smile splitting his face. "Jareth, my friend. _Buon pomeriggio_. How are you doing? How is the lovely Sarah?"

"She's well. Asleep," he said to excuse her absence. "How is the family?"

Hector snorted and flicked ash off the tip of his cigarette. "We need to pay teachers more. Maria is trying to keep them in line, but—" an enormous crash sounded from the apartment, and he whipped his head around, then relaxed. "It was only Dario. He has been obsessed with the Batman. Do you know the Batman, Jareth?"

"Vaguely," he said.

"A spoiled billionaire who fights crimes instead of talking about his problem," Hector laughed and took another deep drag of his cigarette. "Dario is practicing his moves, jumping off furniture, and scaring his sisters."

Jareth grinned. He wished he could climb the staircase to pop in on the family, maybe show young Dario or his sisters some real magic when their parents weren't looking. He had always enjoyed the time he spent with the wished-away children. Before he had effectively banished himself from the Seelie court a century ago, he had even visited some of them after they settled into life with their new fae families.

 _Some of them, or their children, are probably a part of Aldric's army._ He would not pretend it did not sting. Faerie's human population had exploded since he had taken hold of the Labyrinth, numbering in the tens of thousands now. They even had their own small town on the borders of the Seelie court.

If Jareth met with the Palermo family, it would have to be after the quarantine was lifted. _If I survive._

"You look troubled, my friend. Is it our Sarah?"

Jareth shook his head. "Family. My brother."

"Ah," Hector looked smug. "I have brothers as well. They can be difficult." He flicked the butt of his cigarette off the fire escape before reaching for another. "Do you want one?"

"No, thank you. I am afraid I never acquired the taste."

Hector shrugged his broad shoulders. The man was probably a good five inches taller than Jareth, with long musician's hands. "I should never have started. But enough about me, what is the matter with this brother of yours?"

Jareth chewed his response. There was a kind of freedom in talking to Hector, who had zero ties to the underground or the world of Faerie. "My brother is also my competition," he said at last. "He would woo Sarah away from me."

"Ha! It is not he who is stuck with her until the end of quarantine. What can he do? You are here. He is not." He took a long drag, looking smug. "I believe in you, Jareth. You will win our Sarah's heart."

There was a tug on his stomach at those words. _I can only hope._ But he could not tell Hector that Sarah was with Aldric even now, that—

His thoughts were interrupted by a series of loud bangs on the front door. Even the neighbor turned his head, frowning. "Excuse me, my friend," Jareth said, sliding through the window and back into Sarah's living room.

The knocking started again, six strikes against the wooden surface. Jareth shifted his clothes into something a little more casual—gray trousers and a white button-down, the first few buttons open to expose his throat. He glamoured his appearance, taking on the subtly different look of a mortal man. Then he peered through the little window on Sarah's door and realized he needn't have bothered with any of that.

 _Oh, well_ , he thought and swung the door open just as Robert raised his fist to begin pounding yet again. The man scowled and pushed his way into the apartment, head turning as he looked for Sarah.

"Where is she?" he snarled as Jareth locked up behind him. "Sarah? Sarah!"

"She isn't here, I'm afraid." He moved into the living room, waving a hand so that a small wet bar sprung up along one wall, flush with bottles of varying sizes and colors. "Drink?"

"Go to hell," Robert spat.

Jareth raised an eyebrow and poured himself several fingers of a fine fae spirit made from honeysuckle. It was sweet and intensely strong. He knocked back the glass and poured another, letting the fire of the alcohol hit his belly and spread through his bloodstream as he turned to regard Sarah's father.

Robert looked much better than he had in the dream. His face was flushed with anger, no longer pallid. His eyes, a deep brown that made Jareth wonder at Sarah's own crystalline green, sparked with fury. "Where is she?" He repeated, taking a menacing step forward, hands clenched into fists.

Jareth tilted his head, considering. He could try and extract a bargain from the man, he knew. The desperation was palpable even over the bluster and bravado. _Sarah would not be pleased._ "She's in the underground with my brother, Aldric." His gaze flicked to the clock on Sarah's wall. "It's been an hour and a half; she should be back soon."

"What," Robert stammered. "What is she doing there? And with your brother? Is he like you?"

"Yes and no," Jareth growled, hating even the hint of a comparison. "We are both fae, but he is—Sarah is safe enough. She knows how to handle herself. Have faith." He took another swallow of the liquor. The burn was less now, and he could feel that he was growing mildly tipsy. "Are you sure you don't want a drink?" He lifted his gold-rimmed glass. "This is a rarity in your world."

Robert's lips curled. "I don't care if it's from the Queen of England; I'm not taking anything from you."

 _Smart man._ "Suit yourself." He collapsed into his favorite chair, throwing an ankle over one knee as he slouched down. "Shall we glower at each other until Sarah returns?"

Robert turned away, stalking into Sarah's bedroom. There was rustling and a few loud thumps from that direction, and Jareth sighed, draining his second glass before hauling himself up and going to Sarah's doorway, leaning against the frame. He was a pleasant, light drunk. Just enough to make his lips curl up in a smile, although the man was packing his daughter a suitcase.

"What are you doing?" He asked, despite the obvious.

Robert bared his teeth. "Making sure that when she gets back, we can leave right away. She shouldn't spend another moment with you. You're dangerous."

Jareth laughed. "Dangerous? You know nothing."

"Would Sarah be in the underground now if not for you?" He challenged.

Silent, Jareth narrowed his eyes.

"That's what I thought. She knows how to handle herself, you say, which indicates that she's in some kind of danger. _Safe enough_ isn't safe." Robert threw down the bundle of t-shirts he had grabbed out of Sarah's dresser, scattering them haphazardly across her open suitcase. He turned on Jareth, finger raised. "Stay away from my daughter."

"I can't," he said, his voice soft. "And she doesn't want me to."

"She doesn't know what she wants."

"Oh, I don't? That's great to hear, dad, thanks." Jareth whirled, finding Sarah just behind him, holding the straps of her backpack in one hand and frowning at her father. "Just what do you think you're doing? You were just in the hospital. We're in the middle of a pandemic!"

Robert's voice was gruff but quieter now. "You're coming home with me, sweetheart. If this creature," he jerked his chin at Jareth, "is stuck here for the full thirty days of quarantine, then let him stay here. But we should go." He went for her dresser again.

Sarah let out a squawk of protest, pushing past Jareth and throwing her backpack to the floor. "Boundaries, dad! Hands off." He tried for her dresser drawer anyway and she threw herself in front of the piece of furniture. "Stop it," she snapped. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Robert gestured at Jareth. "What's wrong with this picture, hm? You have an honest-to-god fairy in your house—"

"Fae," Jareth corrected. "Fairies bite." He grinned.

Sarah shot him a glare. "Not helping."

Robert took a deep breath, looking between the two of them. "This is unnatural. This cannot stand. You're two different species for god's sake."

"Humans and fae have long mixed their blood," Jareth said. "I have human blood in my lineage. A great-great-grandmother."

Sarah looked over to him, expression startled. "You're part human?"

"Small part," he said, holding his fingers about an inch apart. "Very small." He wanted to laugh again but sensed now was not the time. He also wanted to go back and get more of the honeysuckle wine but had the feeling Sarah would not take kindly to his getting rip-roaring drunk in response to her father's ongoing presence. Though it was tempting.

"Just because your people have been with humans in the past doesn't mean you get to have Sarah," Robert said. "She's never going back to the underground."

" _She_ is standing right here, and _she_ is getting super pissed. Tone it down and knock it off, dad; you're embarrassing yourself." She took his arm and marched him out of her bedroom, Jareth backing up before they knocked into him. She dragged her father to the living room and pointed to the couch. "Sit down."

Robert sat, looking irate, red suffusing his skin. Jareth noted that his clothes were rumpled, as though he had slept in them, and there was a yellow mustard stain on the lapel of his suit jacket. "I don't see what the problem is, Sarah. He's been following you. He always knows where you live. That's not normal."

"My life hasn't been normal since I wished away Toby. Hell, it hasn't been normal since mom left." Robert flinched, and Sarah sat down on the couch next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Dad, this is normal for me. It's been normal for years, and ever since the pandemic, it's just—many things are going on. I can't ignore it. I can't run away."

Her father glared daggers at Jareth.

 _To hell with it. Another drink is in order, after all_. He made his way over to the bar, swiping the whole bottle and taking a swig. _First, my brother gets under her skin, and now I have to deal with this._

And he found that he was growing beyond caring. He crossed the room and climbed out onto the fire escape, looking up to see Hector reading a newspaper. The apartment above was surprisingly silent. "What did you do to Dario?" Jareth asked, taking a swig of the clear spirits.

"Bribed him," Hector said, still reading his paper. "Twenty dollars to watch a movie with his sisters. Maria is taking a nap."

"That's good," Jareth slurred, slumping against the brick façade of the apartment building. "Do you have a father in law?"

"S _ì_." He folded his paper and set it aside regarding Jareth through the staircase's metal slats. "You look even more troubled now, my friend. What's that you're drinking?"

"I would offer some to you, but—"

"Ah," Hector lifted his paper, tapping the headline, which read: **10,000 DEAD**. "Not while this is ongoing. Best to be safe."

"Indeed. I wish that everyone held to your good sense. I am afraid that Sarah's father has made a nuisance of himself."

"I heard that," a voice called from inside the apartment.

Jareth ignored him.

"Her father broke quarantine?" Hector clicked his tongue. "That is not good."

"No," he took another deep pull of the liquor. "It is not." He gave the abbreviated version of events, bringing the neighbor up to speed. His friend whistled.

The back of Jareth's head thumped against the wall, and he stared up at the sky streaked with clouds turning vermillion and copper and gold by the setting sun.

 _Nothing with you is simple_ , Sarah had said to him the other day. And he could not help but feel the same with her. He had found her quite on accident, and nothing had been the same since then. His broken-hearted girl. She had transformed into a woman who burned in his mind like a white-hot brand.

If Sarah did choose to go back with her father, she would still fulfill the compact with Aldric. His portals would find her wherever she was. But nothing was tying her here, to him. A part of him was furious that he had not taken advantage of one of those moments of weakness to extract another compact from her.

But that was not what he wanted in his heart of hearts. He wanted her to stay because she wanted to be here.

"You are in love with her," Hector intoned, his voice soft. "Go back in there, Jareth. Fight for her."

Jareth did not argue, and he did not respond. The word was not exact, not as it would have been in his language. It did not encapsulate his feelings toward her, but—it was similar enough.

He stumbled more than a king ought to, clambering back through the window into Sarah's living room. She and her father were talking in low voices, but both looked up when he crashed in. "Jareth—" she started.

He held up a hand while the room righted itself. "First of all, I am rather drunk. I apologize. But secondly, I do not think you should go, Sarah. There is too much that could happen with Aldric, and you need magic on your side."

"Jareth," Sarah began again, exasperation clear across her features. "I'm not going anywhere. But dad has some questions."

He sank into his favorite chair, relief sweeping through him, but replaced a moment later with a wave of irritation as Robert set his belligerent gaze on him. "What did your brother do to my heart? The doctors are baffled. No one understands how there could be the damage from an attack there one moment and then be gone the next day. It makes no sense. I feel like I'm twenty years old again."

Jareth shrugged. "Put an enchantment on it, perhaps? I am not a healer. I do not know the intricacies and subtleties of what magic form is used to cure a human heart. I know that whatever he did will be permanent, as was dictated in the terms Sarah laid out. You need not fear a relapse."

Robert let out a long breath. "So that's not how I'll die. But do I—is there anything owed? Am I also in this creature's debt?"

"No," Jareth said. "You need not worry about anything like that. The exchange was equitable."

Robert had more questions, and a lot of it was a rehash of many of Sarah's own inquiries over the last twelve days. Some Jareth was more than happy to answer, but others, he was more hesitant. Robert wanted to know more about the mating brand, and Jareth showed it to him, explained the basics, but refused to answer the rest.

"That is for Sarah and I to discuss," he said. "What she chooses to tell you is up to her."

Eventually, Sarah had Robert up and moving toward the front door, pushing him along with admonitions to stay home the rest of quarantine. When the door shut behind him, she slumped against it, closing her eyes, and Jareth noticed just how tired she seemed.

_This is taking a greater toll on her than I expected._

When she came toward him, her smile brightened her expression, though there was still a shadow of fatigue at the edges of her eyes. She snagged the half-empty bottle of honeysuckle wine and took several long pulls. Jareth jumped up, taking the spirit from her. "This is fae wine," he scolded, the effect somewhat dampened by his own swaying. "You'll be quite drunk from that, I assure you."

"Good," Sarah said. "I need it after tonight. Why did you let him in?"

"Would you have preferred I kept your father locked in the outer hall? What would the neighbors think?"

Sarah snorted and collapsed on the couch. Jareth followed, and her fingers laced with his, her head falling to his shoulder as soon as he was seated. She sighed. "I definitely wasn't expecting _him_ when I got home."

Jareth squeezed her hand. "What happened today with Aldric?"

She shook her head. "Not much. We went for another walk, talked a bit. He wanted to know more about my run through the Labyrinth. I told him some of it, leaving out a few details."

"Your friends?"

"Yeah. You're right; I think if he knew about them, he'd—Woah." She put a hand to her head. "Holy shit, you're right. That's some strong stuff." A giggle slipped from her lips, and she pressed herself harder against his side, her free hand running along his chest and teasing the tips of his hair. "What did you do while I was gone?"

"I read your saucy little romance novel," Jareth said, his words slurring more than was proper for a monarch. "Learned all about Harlan's throbbing member."

Sarah erupted in a peel of pure, sweet laughter that had him embracing her before he could question the movement. She fell into that embrace, still laughing but also clutching him close. Sliding on his lap as sure as a key into its lock, she soon turned the hug into a kiss.

She tasted of honeysuckle and the shadowed sweetness that was all her. Jareth kissed her until he was dizzy, the room seeming to spin. He made a motion with his hand, and the living room shifted into his bedroom. However, he did not account for the sudden lack of couch and so plummeted a few feet to the floor with Sarah atop him.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as she began laughing again, hands raised to cover her mouth. "One mustn't do magic when drunk."

Sarah clambered off him and helped him stand. "I don't know," she said, mirth still tinting her words. "I thought it was funny."

They tumbled into bed. Kissing turned to light petting, but they were both far too into their cups for anything beyond that. Jareth fell asleep, cradling Sarah to him, the only illumination the overhead from the stove casting a faint orange glow into the room. His last few thoughts before being dragged into unconsciousness were that despite the day, despite everything, it ended exactly where it was supposed to: with Sarah in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks,
> 
> First thing, I implore you to listen to Nuvole Bianche by Ludovico Einaudi (the piano piece mentioned in this chapter). I know, I know, the song came out in 2004, so I'm out of timeline, but I just find this melody perfectly encapsulated the mood of the first third of this chapter at least.
> 
> As always I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading :) 
> 
> Xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

_Sarah_

**September 30** **th** **, 2002. Day 13 of quarantine.**

"What's the matter?"

Sarah looked to Aldric, who was watching her from across the wide wooden table. When she had come through the portal mirror a few hours previously, he had let her know he had business to conduct. She was reading a paperback novel she had brought with her, and the constant scratch of Aldric's quill on parchment had been a pleasant background noise to the story she was so absorbed in. That had been until the heroine had to make a choice between the two men in pursuit of her, and Sarah had stopped reading, only staring at the pages until the letters blurred.

Aldric set down his quill, giving her his full attention. "You can tell me."

"It's nothing," she said, trying and failing to give a genuine smile. He frowned, and she lifted her book. "I was spacing out, but it's a really good book."

"Good enough that you haven't turned a page in almost half an hour?" He arched a brow. "Really, Sarah, I ask so little. You were sighing. Something is troubling you."

She grimaced and slid her bookmark into place. _This is probably another ploy to gain some kind of leverage over me._ But she had agreed to accept Aldric as a suitor, and that came with certain privileges. One of which was that she must not be _completely_ closed off to him, even though it would make all this so much easier if she could be. "My dad broke quarantine yesterday while I was here. He barged in on Jareth and tried packing me a suitcase. I managed to calm him down, but he's not happy with the situation."

"Your father knows about me and our bargain?"

Sarah nodded. "He's not pleased with it, either, and promised me to never let one of you do magic on him again without his permission."

Aldric tilted his head. "And why is that? Does he not appreciate his healed heart?"

"He does, but I think he's—he's a man of science, of reason. He's not responding well to the discovery that magic is real. If you were a doctor offering him a new kind of medication, that would be one thing, but when you wave your hand and fixed what a team of surgeons couldn't, it freaked him out." Sarah thought about how well her father had looked last night, despite the bluster. He had been wild-eyed but sharp, without the careful way of moving he had adopted over the previous five years.

"I assure you I did more than wave my hand," Aldric said, tone light and amused. "Healing magic does require a certain level of ceremony."

"I'd like to see one day," Sarah said before she thought better of it.

His smile was sudden and wide. "Already looking forward to our future?"

She glowered at him and turned away, his rich laugh seeming to coat her skin. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Nevertheless, it does bring up something I want to talk to you about. Your magic," he grinned when Sarah snapped her head around. "Yes, you have your own. A very potent thing when harnessed correctly. Did you read the book I left you?"

"Yes," she said. "But the way it was written was kind of archaic. I don't think I understood it all."

"Which parts were confusing, pet?"

Sarah ignored the endearment. "I don't know what it means that I have some magic. Jareth told me it is one of the reasons someone who is touched is so prized. I have a piece of Faerie in me."

"You do," Aldric said, voice soft. "Unlike those of us who were born out of it, you have your own separate piece, disconnected from the whole, and it grows within you with each passing year. Did he tell you how to access it?"

Sarah flushed, remembering what Jareth told her. "Blood and sacrifice, he said. Consumption and sex."

"As always, my brother is crude. Crude, but honest. This time." He rose from his seat and began moving around the table toward her. "It is true during sex— _consensual_ sex, for forcing one of your kind will unleash a curse upon the attacker—you release power, but there are other ways to harness it which don't require you to bleed."

Sarah's heart started picking up tempo as Aldric neared, and she grasped her book in her lap like a lifeline, pulse hammering. He perched on the table a foot from her, the heat coming off him reminding her of his brother. Her traitorous body warmed, arousal pooling in her middle. Glancing up at him, she saw his nostrils flare. She got up, putting the chair between them, color high on her cheeks.

"Perfect," he breathed, staring at her. "You desire me, Sarah," he stated it as fact, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he lifted a hand, silencing her. "You can use desire to wield or gift your magic. It's a small thing, really, just enough to light a candle, say, or heal a minor scratch. Would you like me to teach you how?"

She wanted to learn magic, but she did not trust him, and her heart was still pounding like the hoofbeats of a panicked horse. "That's okay," she managed, her voice little more than a whisper. She licked her lips and cleared her throat. "I'll ask Jareth."

Aldric let out a snort of derision. "Jareth was never fully trained. He acquired the Labyrinth when he was only fifty. Many of us do not leave our studies until well after our first century. I learned shoulder to shoulder with our greatest minds in the citadel until I was nearly three hundred. I can teach you more than he ever could."

Sarah thought of last night when Jareth had drunkenly changed the room around, and they had crashed to the floor together. It had been funny, at the moment, but there were larger implications there. Implications Jareth did not possess full control over his abilities.

 _But I haven't asked him about it yet,_ she reminded herself. _I'm not going to take anything Aldric says on faith anymore._

"I see you reading, pet. I see the need for knowledge shining in your eyes. Let me help you." His voice was like silk, and suddenly he was before her, pinning her between the chair and the table. She swallowed and leaned back. "You can feel it now, can't you? It should be like heat, like little licks of fire in your veins, or the rush of lightning. Focus on that feeling."

Sarah drew in a deep breath, which was a mistake around Aldric. He smelled of vanilla brandy and autumn leaves. He wore cologne today, as well—amber, citrus, and spices. The scent seemed to go straight through her. And she was filled with the exact sensations he described, hot coals seeming to flare beneath her skin in time to her rushing heart. It was easy to do as he said and focus on it, to have the sensation unfold into something more—a profound sense of _belonging_.

"There," he whispered. "Now, try to narrow that attention to your right hand, and summon a flame. Just a small one. Enough to light a wick, perhaps, no more." His mismatched eyes were intense, dark, and filled with the desire she had seen the first day she met him.

Her throat went dry. She tried to do what he said, focusing all the strange, buzzing energy inside her into the palm of her hand. It heated, but nothing more happened, and it was hard to contain the magic to a single limb. "I can't," she stammered. "It's not working." _How does one 'summon a flame,' anyway?_

Aldric reached for her, and she flinched back. He frowned, his movement halted. "You agreed to let me be your suitor. I have given you my promise, twice over now, you will come to no harm while you're with me. I have been nothing but honest with you. What more must I do to gain your trust, Sarah? I hate to see you recoil at even the suggestion of my touch."

There seemed to be real hurt in his voice, and sympathy swelled at his words. She tamped it down, her blood still singing with magic. _I can't trust him._ She could trust Jareth, she knew, she—

Aldric grasped her face with his hands and kissed her.

Sarah's eyes widened as his teeth grazed her lower lip and his tongue swept out, tracing the seam of her mouth. It parted in an involuntary motion, and he made a sound of pleasure, deepening the kiss to taste her.

Her pulse was a roaring thing, like ocean waves in a tempest, and she raised her hands to his chest. For half a moment, she let herself be kissed. If nothing else, Aldric was skilled. But then the heat building in her body and collecting in her palm shot forth, and he stumbled back from her with a yelp, beating at his vest where a small fire was licking up the thick cloth. The scent of singed hair was sharp and acrid in the air.

Sarah's chest was heaving, and as soon as Aldric moved away from her, she darted around to the other side of the table, putting plenty of distance between them. Her palm pulsed and throbbed, almost as though she had placed it on a stovetop. Looking at it, however, there was nothing the matter.

He started to laugh, and she jerked her head around to him, watching as he circled the table, coming toward her once more, his motions casual. Sarah backed up, not bothering to disguise her fear.

"Calm down," he chided, a chuckle coating his words. "I will not attempt to kiss you again this day. But you did it. You summoned the flame. I knew you could."

The pride in his voice was thick, and Sarah had the stomach-churning sense he saw her as a pet in truth. "Don't do that again," she said, still tasting him on her tongue. He tasted as he smelled, like autumn and cool nights with warm amber liquor. Her stomach churned again. "How long do I have?"

"A few more minutes," Aldric said, crossing his arms over his chest. They stood a good few feet apart now. "I could teach you more than a fire trick, you know. You could do much with the magic you have inside you. You only need the right... catalyst."

"And _you_ are the right catalyst?" Sarah asked, not bothering to hide her anger. "That's why you kissed me?"

"I kissed you because I've wanted to kiss you since I met you. I want to do a great deal more than that, but I know you're not ready. Just as I know you're not ready for my brother, either, or I would have smelled it."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "Gross."

Aldric smiled. "My sentiments exactly."

"That's not what I meant," she snapped. "At least he asks."

"Oh, does he?" He lifted an eyebrow. "And what of the spellwork tying you to him? What of what you owe when you cannot deliver on your bargain?"

"That's different. I walked into that compact with my eyes open. You sneak attacked."

"To prove a point."

"Which is?"

"You desire me," he said, an echo of his earlier statement. "Else, you would not have been able to summon that flame. If you truly felt nothing when my lips were on yours, you would have been as an ice sculpture in my arms. But no," he slid a step closer to her. "You tasted most divine. And you burned hot for me, pet."

Sarah was flushed so warm she felt feverish. "That's not fair, you—"

"I what? Helped show you your magic? Offered to teach you that much and more? What have I done that is such a grave offense?" He took another step forward, and when she went to back up, he moved with the speed of a striking serpent, grasping her arms. "Remember who is keeping secrets from you, Sarah. It is not I."

The portal mirror shimmered into view along the wall of the tent, not a few feet from her. "Let me go."

"Sarah—"

"Let me go!" She cried, yanking back. Aldric released her, and she stumbled, glaring daggers. "I'm not your pet, I'm not your possession, and I'm not going to be your student."

His eyes flashed, and for a heart-stopping moment she went still, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. When next he spoke, his words were cool, not even a hint of heat remaining. "Go back to him, then. Go back to the man who would keep secrets from you, and remember this: I would keep nothing from you, ever. You see this encampment as my home," he motioned to the canvas walls of his tent, and his tone turned imploring. "But you have not seen my home in the Seelie court, or my estate far out in the wilds. I can offer you a life beyond your imagining. And I would share it all with you if you would choose me."

Sarah did not respond. She could not. _Coward_ , she thought to herself as she tore her gaze away from his. Grabbing her backpack off the floor, she moved to the portal mirror, stopping when Aldric's hand came down on her shoulder.

"Forgive me," he murmured. "I should not have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have," she said, facing his reflection in the hazy surface of the mirror. She chewed on her words for a moment, unsure, and then settled on, "I'll see you tomorrow."

A small smile curved his lips. "Tomorrow."

His hand fell away, and she stepped through the mirror, through the strange clinging, murky dark and into the sun-washed hallway of her apartment.

The scent of coffee filled the air, and Sarah let out a sigh of relief, tossing her backpack to the ground and running a hand through her hair. She could not see or hear Jareth, and so she peeked around the corner, checking through the living room windows to see if he were on the fire escape. He was deep in conversation with Hector by the looks of it. She ducked back and went to her room, pulling out some clothes before going to the bathroom and hopping in the shower, keeping the water cool to soothe her still-heated flesh.

She brushed her teeth while she was under the spray, trying to erase all traces of what had occurred between her and Aldric. For all that the fae seemed to rely on smell, Sarah had the feeling Jareth would know right away she had been kissing another man.

The thought made her stomach twist. _It wasn't like I was kissing him; he was kissing me._

There was a difference.

But for half a heartbeat, she had _let_ him. For a moment before the flames leaped from her palm, she leaned into that kiss. Her lips trembled, and she forced them to stop, biting down while standing under the steady stream of water.

She dried herself and pulled on a long, flowing bohemian-style skirt and a white blouse, brushing her hair back so her eyes looked even larger in her pale face. She opened the door and let out a startled cry to find Jareth standing there, hand raised as though to knock. He flashed her a smile.

And then his nostrils flared, and his gaze yanked to her mouth.

Sarah lifted her hands. "Look, I—"

"He kissed you." The words were flat, toneless.

She pushed past him, uncomfortable trapped in the bathroom with Jareth so stone-faced in the doorway. She went for the coffee pot, all the while, her mind chanting at her: _coward, coward, coward._ But she did not want to face him yet. A few more moments without having to say it, that was all she needed.

"Sarah..." his voice held a note of warning. "Tell it true, did he kiss you, or did you kiss him?"

"He kissed me," she said, quick to come to her own defense. She grabbed for a coffee mug and poured herself a cup. After another moment of silence, she sensed the compact stretching between them, unsatisfied. _Absolute, raw honesty, in full._ "I just—I let him. For a moment," she added with haste, turning to his stormy expression. "It was barely a second. Then I kind of set him on fire."

Jareth blinked. "You set him on fire?"

She put down her coffee and folded her arms across her stomach. "He said he was trying to teach me how to use my magic. That's why he did what he did." Her cheeks flamed. "So it was his own fault. He was the one who told me to conjure a flame."

A delighted look crossed Jareth's face, and he let loose a low chuckle. "And you happened to conjure this flame on his person?"

"Ask me if I wanted that kiss."

He tilted his head. "Did you?"

"No," she said, and the spell hummed between them, satisfied. "And I don't want it to happen again, either. He's lucky that he got away with just a few burned hairs."

Jareth let out a sudden bark of laughter, covering his mouth with one gloved hand, grinning. "You set fire to his hair, precious?"

"Damned straight," she said, moving to put cream and a little sugar into her drink. She smiled to herself as she worked, her heart light after the conversation with Jareth.

_I can offer you a life beyond your imagining._

Her stomach twisted again, and she shook her head, dispelling the memory of Aldric's voice. "Can I say, for the record, that it is really weird you can smell him on me? Does this mean he—did he _know_ what we did? Could he smell that?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Probably," Jareth said, and he sounded close. She raised her head and found him standing near her, and then his arm was around her waist, and she was pressed to his chest. She hummed and wrapped her arms around him, sinking into the heat he exuded with a contented sigh. His hands were in her hair and down her back, petting and stroking. He started speaking to her again, but it was in his people's strange, liquid language.

It was not so much that she _heard_ what he was saying so much as she felt it. Emotion tugged through her, the words conveying a sense of intimacy which made tears spring to her eyes. When he stopped, she sighed, breathing in the rich scent of him. "What did you say?"

He huffed a little in frustration. "The translation is not exact."

"The idea, then."

"Infuriating woman," he growled. He pulled back enough to look down at her, his mismatched eyes warm with affection. "I was describing how much I care for you." He brushed her lower lip with his thumb. "And how much I want you."

A thrill of anticipation raced through her, and her mind flashed on his mouth hot against her skin, his tongue parting her lips. She gripped his shoulders and pressed closer. "You're not angry, then?"

"At Aldric? Always. At you? No. Fae are seductive creatures. And there is a difference between a flash of momentary desire and what we're building here," he touched her forehead, then brushed his fingers through her hair. "It has been sixteen years since you ran the Labyrinth, and thirteen years now I've been coming to you. Six since our first kiss." His hand wrapped around the back of her neck. "I know you are not mine, Sarah, but I am yours. Utterly."

Her lips parted, and he took advantage, dipping his head down to kiss her. The arm around her waist fell to her hips, and he pulled her flush against him.

His words rang through her head as the kiss continued. _I am yours. Utterly._

A part of her thrilled at that. How many could say they turned the head of a king?

She moaned and dug fingers into his shoulders when his tongue brushed against hers, fire pooling deep in her belly. It was everywhere, the heat intense and singing of magic as he stoked her lust higher. Her breath hitched as he broke their contact to lift her shirt over her head. "Damned useless things," he grumbled.

"What? Clothes?"

Jareth nuzzled her neck, nipping at the soft skin there. His gloved hands led a trail of heat down her sides, and she shivered. " _Your_ clothes, in particular, precious." His fingers hooked in the band of her skirt. "If I ever have you in my chambers, I—" The phone rang, interrupting him. He growled, pulling away. "I will bog anything that so much as _thinks_ of disturbing us."

Sarah rose on tiptoes, steadying herself on his shoulders to press a quick, soft kiss against his lips. "For all that we're stuck together, we do seem to get interrupted quite a bit."

"Go answer your blasted phone."

She laughed and did so. It was her friend Brock, who she had been in somewhat spotty contact with since the start of the quarantine. They had exchanged work e-mails but little else, and he was apparently having a hell of a time staying sane all alone in his Queens apartment. Sarah settled herself down at her desk and covered the mouthpiece, so she could whisper to Jareth. "This may take a while."

He grabbed a book and slouched down into his favorite chair, the tips of his flyaway hair visible from her position.

Brock gabbed, and Sarah listened with half an ear, her mind churning.

When this had all started, all she thought about was keeping as much normalcy in her life as possible, but that was fast becoming impossible. Still, she could not help but wonder what might happen when the thirty days were over. Would Jareth and Aldric immediately be at each other's throats? And what then? Would she go back to life as normal, talking to Brock at the water cooler and Rhonda at their favorite bar, creating portfolios and designs for mid-tier companies until she retired?

 _I can offer you a life beyond your imagining_ , Aldric had said, and Jareth had echoed those sentiments in recent weeks and over the years. _Be my queen_ , he had asked, so many times. _Join me as my ally and equal._

Her stomach gave a sudden lurch.

_What am I doing? When this quarantine is over, Jareth will have to go back to the underground. If he survives Aldric, he'll go back to being king, and I'm going to do what? Date him?_

She turned around in her chair, her thoughts now a frenzy as Brock moaned over his lack of love life. _I wish I had your problems, my friend_.

But then, on the heels of that thought came another.

_No I don't. Because I don't want to give him up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll,
> 
> Real quick I wanted to mention that I've been working on a piece of artwork sort of inspired by this story that I've dubbed 'Professor Jareth.' You can check out the progress on my Instagram dbergwrites. I was thinking of all the reading the characters get up to in this story and saw this ad of Bowie modeling some glasses and an idea sprang up of Jareth slowly lowering reading glasses to look at Sarah. I've always loved that motion. That, and taking off gloves with teeth. Rawr.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this newest chapter. Reviews and comments keep us poor, cold, shivering writers warm at night.
> 
> Xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

_Jareth_

_Are you lost, because I am too_

_Directions mean nothing in the dark when you don't know where you stand_

_\- Brave_ , Riley Pierce

**October 1 st, 2002. Day 14 of quarantine.**

Two weeks.

Jareth closed his eyes, letting the slight breeze ruffle his hair. Though he still worried about Sarah when she went into the underground, the rhythm to the day was a soothing one. He checked on the Labyrinth, picked up a book, and went to the fire escape until she came home. The apartment was too empty without her in it, and it provided him time to speak with Hector or the other Palermo family. Dario had been out earlier, chatting his ear off about batmobiles and boomerangs until his father dragged him back inside to do his homework.

His ears were open, strained for any sound of Sarah’s arrival. He did not have a time-telling device on his person, but he possessed a knack for it ever since inheriting the Labyrinth’s powers. Two hours had passed already, and he knew that it translated to approximately five in the underground. Sometimes it went faster, sometimes it went slower. The gods only knew why.

Jareth slid inside, closing the window to a crack to let the air in. One benefit to the quarantine had been the lack of cars clogging the roads below, belching their foul gasses. The streets were near-deserted now, so much so that people walking their dogs often strolled down the center lanes to keep room between themselves and other pedestrians.

He looked to the wall where the portal would be, but it was blank except for a thermostat he had been admonished not to touch.

Turning to the kitchen, Jareth began preparing the coffee Sarah would want. She was wise in not taking any of the food and drink Aldric provided. There was no telling if it would enthrall her to him in some way. Though, in truth, Jareth doubted his brother would take that route.

The coffee prepared, Jareth started up work on a new recipe he found in one of Sarah’s magazines when he heard a faint pop, and the sharp smell of ozone came to his nose. He glanced over his shoulder to see the portal mirror back in the hallway, the gilt edges glittering a little in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

He waited, but Sarah did not appear.

Frowning, Jareth abandoned his ingredients and moved to the mirror, inspecting it. He sensed the magic coming off it, smelling of his brother and the underground. He longed to step through it himself. As much as he enjoyed his time with her, this was not his home and never would be. It was a distraction and a diversion while his kingdom needed him. But he could not go through this portal or any other until the quarantine laws were lifted from this land.

And he was trying to swallow the sense that these were his last days, that the gods had granted him the gift of some time with Sarah before he met his end by Aldric’s hands. He only hoped she managed to escape him, but that seemed increasingly unlikely. She was touched. She would only grow more and more enticing to the denizens of Faerie. And as much as he loathed Aldric, there were worse fae out there.

Jareth tapped the liquid surface of the mirror, sending a ripple through it. A moment later and his brother stared out at him, expression severe. He spoke in the language of the fae. “What?”

“Where is she?” Jareth demanded, speaking the same tongue. “Her time is up unless you found some other way to increase her hours in the underground.”

Aldric frowned. “What nonsense do you spout now, brother? Sarah left ten minutes ago.”

A cold shock smashed into him, and Jareth turned from portal, trying to school his features. He let his senses stretch from him, double-checking what he knew to be true: he remained alone in the apartment.

“Are you saying she never made it back?” Aldric said from behind him, and a thread of fear tainted the words.

Jareth turned back on the image of his brother with a snarl. “You did not protect the portal?”

“Of course, I protected the portal. I—” he stopped, then disappeared from view. He came back a few heartbeats later. “There’s a hole,” he said tonelessly.

Jareth swore with abandon and shook with the effort not to slam his fist into the mirror. “Is she still in your camp?” he asked.

“No. I would have known.”

He closed his eyes. _She’s in danger._ He would need to tip his hand. “I can find her, but you’ll need to retrieve her.”

Aldric barked a laugh. “She could be anywhere. She might not be in Faerie, and who knows what grabbed her? She could be dead for all you know.”

“She’s not dead.” He would have felt it if she perished. Pulling off his left glove, he looked down at the mating bond. It was just as dark as it had been when it first appeared.

Aldric let out a strangled sound. “That glyph—”

“As I said, I can find her.” He summoned a spying mirror to hang next to the portal. His brother leaned forward as though he would push his head through the frame to see what he was doing, and Jareth bared his teeth. “Do not slip, or you’ll be useless to Sarah.”

“And you’d be dead,” Aldric mocked.

“She’s more important than our rivalry,” Jareth growled and pressed his palm to the surface of the spying mirror, focusing his energies on the glyph tattooed on the back of his hand.

“Funny you would call such a thing which started with sororicide a _rivalry_. Blood for blood, brother. That is always how this was going to end. And your symbol will take that pleasure from me if you use it to find her.” He laughed, the sound mocking. “I was taught by our masters, and with them to aide me, I would not be able to contain that power.”

“That’s because the glyph of the Labyrinth was not meant to be wielded by anyone but its rulers,” Jareth said, unfurling his magic so it coursed through the bond and hit the silver surface. At once, he felt the pull of the Labyrinth from a world away. _Home_. And then he redirected that energy, that pull, seeking the one he had been branded for. An image began to form on the mirror’s surface, and Jareth sagged in relief. “She’s still in Faerie,” he said. “In the wilds. I see a selkie and a lamia with her now.”

“You truly can wield the symbol,” Aldric said, his voice awed.

Jareth pulled his hand back and stepped fully into view. Now that he found her, he would have the mirror track her movements until his brother arrived. “We know where she is, and you know as well as I that she’s in danger with those creatures. Time is of the essence.”

Instead of disappearing or acknowledging this, Aldric tilted his head, silent and considering. “What will you give me?”

“ _What_?” Jareth demanded.

“If I retrieve your _mate_ , what will you do for me?” His expression darkened. “Would you slit your own throat? What is her life worth to you?”

Jareth took a step forward, stunned. “She is touched. You know how important she is for that alone. You would abandon her to the lamia?”

“True, she is valuable,” Aldric conceded. “But more to _you_ , I think.” He paused, gloved finger tapping the faint cleft in his chin. “When you are released from this world, you will come directly to me. We will settle the feud between us.”

“You’re suggesting a duel, then? One on one combat?”

His brother nodded. “But you come to me, to my grounds, and there will be no side trips to your beloved Labyrinth. Straight here.”

That would put Jareth at a distinct disadvantage. His power was great, but the longer he remained separated from his kingdom, the more his magic faded. It had only been a little so far. A faint drain that reminded him of the beginning pains of a headache. He had been counting on his ability to recharge prior to a confrontation, preparing mentally for the siege which would follow his return. What Aldric demanded would likely mean failure. It would mean death.

“Time is wasting, brother,” he said, his voice mocking. “And I cannot hold myself in the between place forever.”

Aldric was one of the best fighters the Seelie court ever produced. A warrior and a scholar, Jareth had never known him to lose a fight, either on the battlefield or in a duel. The strength and complexity of the Labyrinth’s walls would keep him at bay, maybe even forever. Without its power, Jareth was lost, but...

_I cannot abandon her._

His heart hurt, but he said his right words. “So long as you return Sarah to me, you will get your duel with the conditions you stipulated. This I vow.”

Aldric’s smile was sharp and sudden. “A bargain well struck, brother.”

And then he disappeared, the portal fading into nonexistence. Jareth went to the mirror showing Sarah. She sat with her back to a tree, unconscious with her hands tied around the base of the trunk. He wished he could reach through the mirror and touch her.

The time discrepancy between Faerie and Sarah’s world was such that his view of her sped up, the sky lightening as the sun rose in haste. Aldric would not find her immediately. It might take some time. The wilds were vast. If only he could make his own portal, Jareth could appear right next to her, but the pull of the bond was a magic he could not direct his brother with.

He watched for hours. He watched for what, for her, were days.

Jareth watched and despaired.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

_Sarah_

_When you can't hold on_

_When you're strength is gone_

_When all that you can manage is sending up a cry_

_I'll be standing right beside you, till you reach the other side_

_-_ _The Other Side_ , Philip Larue

**Faerie.**

Sarah groaned. Shards of glass ground between her eyelids and her eyes, but when she attempted to press the heel of her palm against the sensation, she found that she could not move her hands. Something burned around her wrist, and when she twisted it, she gasped as sharp pains shot up her arm.

"Fia, it sounds like our prize is awake," hissed a nearby voice. A familiar voice.

Sarah was still blind, the pain in her eyes enough that she wanted to weep in frustration, but when tears began to form, the grinding, shattered sensation only strengthened. Her heart started to speed, and her stomach twisted in response to the agony of it, her breaths leaving her in shallow gasps.

"Your venom is still at work," another voice spoke, this one sounding like the crash of waves on a pebble-strewn beach. With it came the stench of rotting seaweed and saltwater. "You're sure it won't kill her?"

Snatches of memories came back to her. Stepping into the pressing dark of the mirror and cold, taloned hands closing over her bicep, yanking her so violently that she feared her arm would come off. She had tried to scream, but when she opened her mouth, the solid shadows flooded in, choking her.

"I'm sure," the first voice said, the 's' in each word it spoke elongated, like the sound of a snake. "She may not recover her sight, but she will live."

Sarah moaned at those words, the sour tang of fear sliding across her tongue. _Blind? I'm going to go blind?_ She was still scrabbling at her memories, trying to recall just _how_ she had ended up here, her arms tied behind her back. They had apparently been that way for quite some time, for they were cramped and tingling, her shoulder blades burning. At her back was the rough scratch of bark. She drew her legs up, knees to her chest, which shifted her enough that it made another gasp of pain escape her lips.

"No one needs her to see," the second voice rumbled. Fia. "It may be to our benefit. She could turn more docile."

"I did not sign up for this to train some half-feral, stinking human. I only want what you promised me."

"In time, Khana, in time. We have to get through the wilds and the wastes first."

Khana hissed again, and something dry and cold brushed against Sarah's arm. "I would rather take it now."

"You would break your word, lamia? What would that mean for your people?" Fia sounded like they were scolding a child, almost. "You've already damaged the human." There was a rustling, and Sarah felt it as someone knelt next to her. "I know you can hear me, mortal. I'm going to untie your hands. Do not attempt to do anything rash. You are valuable, but you don't have to have all your pieces in place to retain that value. Remember this."

She swallowed and managed to ask in a rasping voice, "Who are you? What do you want?"

The lamia—and Sarah had a sudden image in her mind of a serpentine body with the head and torso of a beautiful, flame-haired woman—let out a laugh. " _Who are you_?" she mocked. "Your time as a pampered pet of the fae is at an end, mortal."

Sarah did not answer except to exclaim as her hands were released from their bonds, the scent of ozone accompanying the use of magic. Moving her arms was torture, and she winced as she slowly pulled them into her lap. She could feel only the very tips of her fingers. Everything else was numb, but as blood began working back into the area, it burned like fire.

"My name is Fia. I am a selkie. My companion here is Khana. You met her when we snatched you from the portal, and we are taking you to the grand market beyond the wastes, where you will fetch us a pretty price."

"Fae touched," Khana spat. "There's fewer and fewer of you as time goes on."

"Yes," Fia agreed. "And we would never have attempted to steal you from a fae if times were easier, but we have not seen one of your kind in over a decade, and hunting you is my life and my trade." She let out a sigh like seafoam against rocks. "Or it used to be. You may be my last quarry. Come," She pulled on Sarah's arm, but dropped it when she gave a cry of pain. Fia swore. "You tied her too tight, Khana."

"You should have checked the bonds yourself if you were so worried," the lamia snapped back.

"Well, now you'll get to carry her. We have to move. I don't like staying in one place longer than necessary."

Sarah opened her mouth to protest that she could walk just fine, but then she was unceremoniously yanked upward. She let out a yelp and thrashed a little, but the hands holding her ended in taloned points that she remembered from the portal mirror. Those tips dimpled into the flesh of her stomach, and she ceased her movements. The lamia laughed again. "That's right, no more fighting. Though if you wanted to give me a treat, you could anger Fia enough that she lets me eat one of your fingers. Your kind always tastes the sweetest."

Sarah shuddered, finding herself cradled against the lamia's chest, arms still too weak to move, and her eyes full of fire, darkness the only thing she could see.

They began walking or, in the lamia's case, slithering along what sounded like a forest with a carpet of dried leaves to wade through. Branches snagged on her shirt or scratched at her feet while she worked on flexing and massaging sensation back into her hands.

The selkie hummed while they walked. Sarah pressed her hands against her eyes, trying to ease the burn there. Every blink was like sandpaper, and even with her eyes open, she saw nothing but charcoal gray fog, with occasional darker shadows within.

In the lamia's arms, Sarah remembered the moment she had been yanked from the darkness of the portal. She had sucked in a breath, eyes wide, taking in the lamia for a split second before something hot and searing splashed across her eyes. The venom.

"I need water," Sarah said after a time. "Please." She did not know how long she had been with these creatures, but it must have been several hours as her body was screaming with thirst.

Fia let out a long sigh. "Very well."

A soft skin of water was pressed into Sarah's hands. She fumbled at the mouth of it while the lamia stood still. Then she tipped the skin back and immediately choked, spewing saltwater while she coughed.

Fia and Khana were laughing, the arms holding her shaking in mirth. Sarah sputtered, still gagging, and fury rose in her, setting her limbs to tremble. She threw the water skin as hard as she could and heard it smack into something a few feet away. The laughter stopped.

Then there were fingers on her face, turning her head. They were as cold as ice water and damp. The scent of rotting seaweed grew stronger, and Fia was speaking. "You hit me, little mortal."

Anger still surged in her. "I can't survive on salt water. Do you want me to die?"

"More and more, when you open your mouth to speak. Perhaps I shall have Khana eat your tongue."

"She doesn't need it," Khana purred. "Our buyers might appreciate her silence." The arms holding her tightened, and Sarah stiffened. The fingers on her face withdrew, and eagerness crept into the lamia's voice. "May I, Fia? Oh, please let me."

She began to struggle, but it was like fighting against a stone statue. One that breathed and laughed at her attempts to get away. And then something struck her across the face so hard that for a moment she could not breathe.

" _That_ is repayment, mortal. Don't try something like this again, or I really will let Khana eat your tongue."

Sarah's ear was ringing, and something wet trickled out of it. A moment later and there was a hot breath on her neck, and a tongue scraped across her flesh. "Waste not want not," Khana whispered, then trembled a little. "Oh, I had almost forgotten how your kind taste."

"Remember your vow, snake," the selkie snapped.

"You were the one to draw blood. What would you have me do? Let it go to waste?" They began moving again, Sarah's head spinning and throbbing from the blow. "Consider the taste a bonus, Fia."

The selkie snorted but said nothing.

Sarah did not know how long they walked. She lost consciousness twice, jerking awake both times to a rumble of laughter from the lamia. Feeling her face, she could tell she was swollen on one side, her cheekbone so tender that she worried the bone had broken. She cleared away flakes of dried blood from her ear and tried not to think of the thirst that was consuming her every thought.

The saltwater had made it worse by an order of magnitude Sarah had not anticipated. Her mouth burned with the need for liquid, and she soon found tears falling down her cheeks and hitting her chapped lips.

Desperation made her speak once more, though her voice was unrecognizable to her ears. "Please. Water."

Fia stopped her soft singing, which Sarah had been too distracted to notice. "Did you hear something, Khana?"

The lamia laughed. "Perhaps another demonstration is in order, Fia? This one does not seem to understand."

"Spoiled by the fae, most like." There was the snap of a breaking branch, and the fluttering of bird wings as several took flight high above them. "Listen to me, mortal. I want you alive. I want you in mostly one piece. But my interest in your well-being extends only so far."

"I'll die," Sarah rasped. "Without water."

"So you will, which is why you'll have some when we make camp. No sooner. I won't let you die, human, but don't expect to be pampered every step of the way. Now, that was your final warning. The next time you speak out of turn, I will rip your tongue from your head myself."

###

They did give her something to drink that night. Not much, but it tasted like heaven though it smelled like old pond water. She was also given a slice of bread and a shred of meat from whatever animal they had killed to roast over their campfire. Sarah devoured the bread but nibbled at the meat, uncertain until a snort of derision came from the selkie. "It's a squirrel, your highness."

After that, she slept, and the next morning they did the same thing. Her sight had not returned or improved in any way, and so the lamia carried her, at first in her arms and eventually with a sling that left Sarah clinging to her back like a baby monkey. Whenever she attempted to walk independently, she stumbled and fell on the uneven ground, causing Khana to grumble in frustration.

They did not talk to her, but they spoke around her. Sarah learned that a lamia was a rare thing, incredibly strong, and difficult to kill. A bruiser with an insatiable appetite for raw flesh. Typically they were territorial and stayed in their own range, but when Fia had found out that there was a fae touched human in the underground, she had little trouble convincing Khana to be the muscle of their two-woman operation.

Fia was several hundred years old from how she referred to events from long in the past, asking rather abruptly of Sarah one night, "Whatever happened to that Napoleon fellow in the aboveground?"

Despite that and a few other questions about aboveground history, they rarely spoke to her. The selkie sang and hummed to herself most of the day, and the lamia occasionally hissed out a threat if Sarah moved too much in her attempts to get comfortable.

Days passed in this manner. Walking through what seemed like an endless wood, with the strange ocean songs of the selkie winding through the air, and the odd, slippery sensation of the lamia's scaled skin beneath her fingers as she gripped its shoulders. A large cup of water at the end and the beginning of every day. Bread and meat, meat and bread. The further they got from wherever they had started, the more cheerful Fia became.

"We're almost to the wastes," she said on what Sarah calculated to be the fifth day. "A few more days and we'll have you at market, my prize."

She said nothing. Her jeans and blouse were filthy, her skin itching, and there was a hollowness to her stomach that only echoed when she fed it. She still could not see more than vague dark shapes in a hazy cloud, but the pain in her eyes was gone. She wanted to ask if it would be permanent but feared the answer.

That night the lamia dumped her by a tree as usual, and after her meager meal, Sarah curled around herself, chilled but unwilling to come closer to the fire burning several feet away. She could feel each one of her ribs, and her stomach cramped after she drank the water so fast. Closing her eyes, she slipped off into sleep.

###

Sarah opened her eyes, and color greeted her. It was the first indication that this was a dream. The second was Jareth, his face a mask of concern a moment before he grasped her, pulling her flush against his chest. She clutched him, overcome as he started to speak. "Aldric is coming for you, Sarah. We'll find you."

Her throat was so tight that her words were barely a whisper. "I can't see, Jareth. When I'm awake, the lamia—she hit me with her venom. I'm blind."

"I know," he said, stroking her hair. She leaned into the sensation, and he tightened his grip around her. "Once you come home, we'll see what we can do. I have healers, and Aldric has his own abilities."

"I'll be able to see again?"

He was silent for long enough that she pulled back. Their surroundings were strange. Shifting landscapes of mountains and corridors, one thing blending into the next in the way of dreams. But he was so real that when she touched him, she felt the fever heat of his skin. _It's because he's really here._

"Jareth?" she asked, tears springing to her eyes. "Please tell me I'll be able to see again."

He smoothed the hair back from her face, and his voice was gentle. "Lamia venom is potent. It is both poison and magic. I am not a healer, Sarah; I do not know how easy it will be to restore your sight."

The tears fell, and he brushed them away with his thumbs, leaning down and placing his mouth against hers in the gentlest of kisses.

"I am so sorry, Sarah. We'll find you. I promise."

###

Someone grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her up to a sitting position. Sarah screamed at the sudden pain and was rewarded with a blow across the face that had her tasting blood. "Shut up," Fia snapped. "I can smell the fae about you, human. Where is he?"

"In my dreams," Sarah gasped, her scalp screaming from where the selkie still held her hair tight. "He just visited me in my dreams."

She was released with a sudden hiss. "You belong to the Goblin King?"

The lamia slithered across the leaves, the sound familiar to Sarah's ears. "Kill her now. We'll move faster without her, and dead mortals tell no tales."

"I will not give up my prize because you're afraid of a single fae," Fia snarled. "And as soon as we sell her, the Goblin King will have no claim to her."

Sarah doubted that but held her tongue. She had no desire to lose it. Or to say anything that would tip them in favor of homicide.

Khana's sharp talons closed around Sarah's upper arm, and she dragged her upright. "We need to move. If he could find her in dreams, he could find her here."

"Agreed," the selkie said.

They broke camp and began moving once more. There was no singing this time and no grumbling from the lamia.

Sarah started to fall asleep, lulled by the smooth movement of their walk, then something sharp jabbed her in the side, and she jerked. "No dreaming, little mortal," Fia said. "You'll get no more sleep before we take you to market."

Khana was still trying to convince the selkie to kill her, describing all the various uses different creatures had for the bones, blood, and flesh of a fae-touched human. Sarah's stomach roiled at the descriptions, and she grew increasingly worried about the creature she clung to hour after hour.

The sun rose, its rays barely penetrating the chill in the air. It still heated her skin and made her more drowsy. Every time she began to nod off, however, pain greeted her until Fia snarled and shoved something acrid and rotten smelling under Sarah's nose that made her reel. "Eat this," the selkie demanded.

Sarah reached up, fumbling with the creature's clammy fingers before grasping something that seemed for all the world to be made of cold mud. When she hesitated, the selkie began to growl a threat, and she quickly shoved the foul concoction into her mouth.

She almost threw it up but managed to swallow down the lump of whatever it was. Coughing and eyes streaming, she felt a surge of alertness a moment later. Her heart sped, and all her senses heightened. Even the shadow-shapes were more numerous. She could hear the creak and groan of branches rubbing against each other, feel the subtle shift in the wind, and smelled—

She tried not to let her reaction show through, holding her breath for a moment before leaning back into the lamia. Her heart was a pounding rush in her chest, but neither Khana nor Fia noticed her sudden stiffening.

_Aldric._

It had to be him. Jareth said he was coming.

But hours passed into another day, and there was no further sign of the fae warrior. Sarah had begun to think she had imagined the scent of vanilla brandy in the air when the lamia declared her need for rest. "I don't want any of that foul paste," she said in her slithering voice. "I just need an hour, maybe less."

Fia grumbled, but soon Sarah was being deposited on the ground. She was wired, alight with whatever substance the selkie had given her. The stimulant reminded her of a beefed-up version of certain sinus medications. She wanted to ask how long it would last and if there were any side effects, but all her curiosity was tamped down by the very real threat of losing her ability to speak.

Some minutes went by, and a soft snore began to rise from where the lamia had been. Sarah felt a hand slide over her mouth. It was hot, and the scent of Aldric came to her, her heart picking up a faster rhythm. "Stay calm," his voice breathed straight into her ear a moment later. "When I let go, I want you to get up and run as fast as you can."

Sarah shook her head. She touched her eyes, slashing the air with her hand to try and signal that she could not see.

There was a slight intake of breath. "They blinded you," he said, his voice holding a rage she had never heard from him before. He swore and said. "Crawl, then. When I let you go, start crawling this way. I'll keep them from you."

A movement, a brush of cloth against her neck, and his hand was gone.

Sarah pulled in a deep breath, shocked still, and then rolled to all fours and began to move. Fia sent up a cry, but Sarah did not stop. Even as she heard Aldric's voice behind her, booming like thunder, she did not stop. "You _dare_ touch her? She is mine."

Twigs snapped under her palms and knees. Beneath the carpet of leaves was hard, cold ground littered with small, sharp rocks. A few times, she shouldered or went head-first into a tree, having to reorient herself before continuing on. Behind her was the sound of a battle. She heard the lamia's high-pitched screech, and a song came from the selkie that made her limbs heavy, her head swimming as it conjured images of a gentle seashore, beckoning and welcoming.

She stumbled and fell to the cold earth, cradled in the rocking motion of the sea.

There was a low cry and a thump, and the singing came to an abrupt end. Sarah staggered back up, standing this time, feeling around her for a tree and then clutching it, the ground still seeming as though it rocked beneath her feet.

Far off, she heard Aldric calling her name. A warning shout. The sound of crunching leaves grew to a crescendo, and taloned hands were around her throat. The lamia's stinking breath on her face a moment later. "Come near me, and she dies!" Khana shrieked, so loud that Sarah winced, ears ringing.

There was nothing but a sudden silence that followed this demand. She licked her lips, and her palms began to sweat. "Have him swear," she croaked.

The lamia hissed. "What?"

"Have him swear not to hurt you, in exchange for letting me go," Sarah said. "He is a fae. He cannot break a bond."

Khana hummed. "I have heard this before. Will you do it, fae?" She challenged. "Swear to me that you will allow me to go from this place in peace, and I will give you back your precious pet."

Aldric's voice was closer than she had imagined he would be. "Do not harm her, and you have yourself a deal."

"Swear it."

"So long as you do not damage her, I will grant you your life back. No further injury will come to you. This I swear by my heart's blood."

As soon as the scent of ozone reached her nose, the lamia released her, and there was the rushing, crashing sound of the creature fleeing through the woods. Sarah collapsed back against the tree, and Aldric had his hands on her shoulders a moment later. She raised her head. "The selkie?"

"Dead," he said, and magic laced the air again. "I'm sending you home."

"Is the portal safe?"

"It is, pet. I made sure of it this time." A warm, gentle brush of fabric against her cheek, and she leaned into the feeling to find his hand cradling her face. "I will never let this happen again," he whispered. "Now go."

Before she could say anything else, he had turned her and propelled her through a portal mirror. She felt the strange gripping sensation of the space between, and then she took a step and was pulled from the mirror by a familiar set of arms.

Sarah felt the heat of the sun on her face, and the next thing she knew, she was being clutched hard against Jareth's chest, and he was trembling in a way she had never felt before. "You're back," he whispered against her hair. "You're safe."

Her own limbs began to shake, and he followed her when her knees grew weak, slowly lowering them both to the floor. A sob fell from her lips, and his grip around her tightened as she cried out the fear and fury, his voice a gentle murmur as he stroked her back and rocked her.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah," he said again and again. "I'm so sorry."

She said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> Real quick note: I see all your reviews and love the hell out of them. Sometimes I don't respond because either A.) spoilers, or B.) my social anxiety has been on a frolic recently and I am spazzing out that someone is talking to me even on the internet.
> 
> So thank you for this sometimes one-sided conversation. I appreciate all of you.
> 
> As always I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy
> 
> P.S. – I did start a sketch of Aldric but it's in the very beginning phases and, knowing how long it takes me to do a piece of artwork, probably won't be ready for another few weeks.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

_Jareth_

_Because I know what love is_

_And that's why ours is good_

_No I won't lie to you_

\- _Alone_ , Haelos

**October 4th, 2002. Day 17 of the quarantine.**

Three days. Three whole days Sarah had been trapped in the underground, tortured and starved. To her, it had been a little over a week. Her face had slimmed down considerably, and there was a healing bruise across one cheek, the skin yellow and green except over her cheekbone where the flesh was an angry burgundy color.

And her eyes—he could hardly bear it, looking at her eyes. Those luminous orbs had turned milky and scarred, shifting restlessly when she looked at him.

He held her until she stopped crying and then held her some more. He was reticent to let her out of his arms, even as she shifted against him. "Do you need food? Water?"

She shook her head. Her voice was a croak. "A shower, please."

He gathered her up and took her to the bathroom, setting her on the edge of the tub while he started the hot water. She took off her blouse, undoing the buttons, and shrugging it from her shoulders. He eyed her as she did so, noting marks around her wrists and sucking in a breath when he saw how prominent her ribs were.

"They didn't let me speak," she said, her voice still hoarse. He abandoned the shower for a moment to pour her a glass of water from the sink, pressing it into her hands. She gulped it down, throat convulsing as she swallowed. When she finished, she handed it back to him, arm stretched out somewhere to his right. He took it from her as steam began to fill the air. "They said they would take my tongue, Jareth." She shuddered.

"I know, love. I could not come to you, but I was able to watch you." He helped her stand and get out of the rest of her clothes. "My brother might have sworn to allow the lamia her life, but when I return, I will hunt her to the ends of Faerie."

Sarah stepped into the shower and under the hot spray. The water sluicing off her turned gray and brown. They did not speak more until she finished, and shivering under a shower turned cold. He turned off the tap and wrapped her in one of her long, fluffy towels, then did a little magic to dry her the rest of the way. "The selkie gave me something," she said. "Some kind of stimulant. I can't—I'm so tired, but I know I can't sleep."

"It will work its way out of your system," he assured her. "And I can help you sleep, love. I am the lord of dreams."

"At least I can see in my dreams," she whispered.

Jareth cupped her cheek. "Let's get you into some dry clothes. May I escort you into your bedroom?"

She tilted her head. "You've never been in there, have you?"

"No, precious. It's your space."

Sarah let out a soft snort. "This whole apartment was my space; that didn't seem to stop you from making your home here." She reached up and grasped the hand which still touched her. "Can't you just magic up some clothes for me?"

"If you wish."

"I do."

Jareth pulled his hand away from her and untied the towel, pushing a little power into the air to coalesce around her form. A tank top and soft lounge pants. They highlighted her emaciated figure. "Let's get some food into you."

"Okay," she said, her voice small and her bottom lip trembling. "Jareth, can you talk to your healers? I can't stand this darkness. I want to see you."

His chest constricted at her words, and he pulled her in for another embrace, inhaling the just-cleaned scent of her. Almonds and jasmine, and that elusive something which belonged solely to her. "I will. Gods, Sarah, I will call on any healer I've ever _heard_ of, I swear it. We will find a way to restore your sight."

She gripped his shoulders, then threw her arms around his neck, pressing herself harder against him. Her lips were on his throat, and she whispered hot against his flesh. "I knew you would come, but I was so afraid you wouldn't. Not in time. The lamia wanted to kill me."

"I know." He stroked his hand through her hair, his other arm still wrapped around her, unwilling to let go. "Aldric will take greater precautions with your portals from now on. This should never happen again."

She fell silent, but after a moment nuzzled a little at his neck. He could smell a hint of lust coming from her and began disentangling them. "What—"

"Food," he said gently. "You need food, love. And rest." He smiled and raised her hand to his mouth so she could feel it. "Though I will attend to all your needs, in time." He lay a gentle kiss on her palm.

Sarah smiled back, the motion hesitant. "I swear sometimes it's like you can read my mind."

"Nothing so simple, precious. I am only in tune with you." He opened the door, letting in the cooler air, and took her hand. "Take your time, Sarah. You're unaccustomed to walking like this."

Of course, she tried to take her usual pace and ended up stumbling into him. She cursed and squeezed his hand. "Fine."

He led her, and she made it to the couch without tripping. He sat her down and tucked her hair back behind her ear. While he would have liked the rhythm and mechanics of making her a meal, he did not want her to have to wait, and so he summoned a hot mug of broth. "Sip this," he said, placing it in her cupped hands. "We'll start off light and work you back up to regular food over the next day or two."

Her gaze was off to the side, near him but not at him. She took a drink, and made a pleased sound, then gulped down two mouthfuls one right after the next. Jareth put his hand over the mug and pulled it back down, so she held it in her lap.

"Take it slow, Sarah, love."

Her smile was back, tentative still. "You keep saying that. Love."

Summoning her a glass of water, which she took and drank greedily, Jareth chewed on his response. Again, there was the desire and the impulse to keep everything from her, to not say the things that would tie her tighter to him. Even more, now that she was so hurt, so vulnerable. Add to it that this time would come to an end, that he would have to battle his brother soon, and his stomach flipped a little. But then the words were tumbling from his lips.

"Because that is what you are to me. Love. When the Labyrinth branded me with this," he traced the back of her left hand in a circular pattern. "At first, I was so furious. The choice had been stripped from me. There had been others over the centuries who had caught my attention. That I had no say in the bond infuriated me for years. But now, Sarah? Gods, now I see why the Labyrinth did what it did. Why it chose you."

"I thought all fae were given these bonds."

"Not all. The fates are mercurial; they bestow bonds when and as they see fit. But the Labyrinth gave me this one, I am certain. In its way, it is sentient and a greater force than all the fae at the Seelie court combined. If it decided you were it for me, then you were it. You are the first mortal champion of the Labyrinth and the first champion I have met in my long reign." Jareth lifted the mug back to Sarah's lips, and she took a few more swallows before setting it down again. "But the point is, precious, that even in my wildest imaginings, I would never have conjured someone like you. I could never have known someone like you could exist. You are—" he stopped himself, then spoke to her in his language, and she closed her eyes, leaning toward him.

Her smile was wide when he finished. "That's an awful lot of words."

"You're worth describing in a million words," he said, his stomach knotting. _I may not have the time now to do so. Only thirteen more days, and I must cross swords with my brother._ He did not know how to tell her, but he would. Soon.

Sarah held out the mug, and he took it from her fingers. As soon as he had set it down on the side table, she reached out, feeling along his chest up to his neck, then his face. Her fingertips traced his lips as she leaned in, sliding into his lap as his arms came up to encircle her. "You love me," she said, words calm but laced with a desire he could not ignore.

She needed rest and more substantial food, but when her mouth pressed against his, he was lost to all but her. To her thighs as they bracketed his hips, to the pulse jumping through the thin skin of her lips, and to her hands touching him everywhere. He returned the favor, hesitating for a moment as he brushed the new concavity of her stomach, but then she moaned and thrust her tongue into his mouth, grasping one of his hands to pull off the glove.

Little tendrils of her magic slipped down his throat from where she kissed him and played along his flesh where her fingers ran. He pushed some of his own, some of the power of the bond, through his own hands and into her. She ground against him, moaning as he knew sensation alighted across her skin. He increased what he gave her, hoping some of his magic, his vitality, could restore her. He did not know much about healing, but it seemed _right_ in the moment.

Sarah made quick work of the clasps on his vest, then spread it and the shirt beneath open. She pulled away from him with a gasp, and he saw the bruise on her cheekbone was almost gone—only a faint yellow tinge remaining—and she looked fuller. "Sarah," he breathed. "Your face."

She touched her chin, brows furrowed. "What is it?"

Reaching up to caress the spot, she jerked back at the brush of his fingers. "I'm sorry," he said. "Does it still hurt?"

She began probing the area, and an expression of wonderment came over her face. "A little, but nothing like it did. And I'm—gods, I'm hungry." Her stomach growled as though to echo the sentiment, and she flushed.

"Don't move," he said and summoned up a bowl of sliced fruits, lifting a peach slice to her lips. "Open your mouth."

She did, and he slid the piece of fruit onto her tongue. Letting out a low moan, she quickly chewed and swallowed. He fed her several other pieces in this way before setting the bowl aside. "I'm still hungry," she protested.

He pulled her face down to his, catching her up in a kiss which tasted of the peaches and apricots he had given her. Her exclamation of surprise turned into a gentle sigh, and then she was pressing against him again, hips rolling forward, so she ground herself against him. Grasping her ass, he encouraged the movement, chasing the friction that rubbed along his stiffening cock. "Sarah," he whispered, breaking their kiss to run his mouth down the column of her throat. "I want you with everything I have."

She cried out as his teeth grazed the side of her neck. He wanted to mark her again, to claim her utterly, fully. The brand seemed to pulse with the need, and he pressed all of it into her, letting his magic flood into her as hers trickled into him. The effort left him breathless, but then Sarah let out a surprised sound, and her grip on him became hard and frantic. "Jareth! You have to stop."

The words shocked him enough to shock him out of the sensation of the ebb and flow of their respective magics. Sarah's hands were on his face, and she was so warm—almost feverishly hot, actually—that for once, he wanted to pull away from her touch.

"You're so cold," she whispered. "I know you're doing something with your magic. I can feel that much, but you have to stop. I feel better. A lot better." She felt for his lips and pressed another kiss to his mouth. "Take it back."

"No," he rasped and gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place. "Give me some of yours, Sarah. Open for me."

A whimper and a whispered, "I don't know how."

In response, he reached for her, dipping his ungloved hand under the band of her pants to find her slick and so hot she almost burned. She bucked against him, and his other hand fell to her hip, holding her in place. "You're feeding me some of your magic now," he whispered, as it peppered his skin like a snow flurry. It was already beginning to revive him. He swirled her clit with his thumb, and she gasped. "Open the door, precious. Let it become what it's meant to be when you're with me."

She thrust herself against his hand, and he smiled, loving the sounds she made as he slipped his fingers inside of her, and she rode them, her breath coming in little pants. She whispered his name, and he growled hers in return.

And then she did open to him. The moment she crested, crying out with her hands clutching his shoulders, the little spatters of her magic became a deluge. But even within it, he could sense this was the merest glimpse of what she had contained inside her. A piece of Faerie. A slice of the stuff which made the world and all the creatures in it.

"That's enough, love," he said, at last, fearful that to take too much would deplete her yet again. But her skin practically glowed in the low light of the setting sun. If not for the hazy quality of her scarred eyes, she would have looked better than he had ever seen her. And he experienced a pain of regret seeing she was still blinded. _I was able to fix some things, but not all._

Sarah leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his and closing her eyes. "I'm starting to."

He blinked. "What?"

"Love you. I'm starting to."

Jareth's pulse sped, and he hugged her to him. _Gods above_ , how long had he wanted to hear those words, or similar?

His own feelings had morphed over the last few weeks alone. There used to be an obsession to claim her, to possess her, but the more time he spent with Sarah, the more he recognized that the true gift was how she shared in her sovereignty. He had not realized the heady rush there would be from being thoroughly desired in turn, and the more taste of it he had, the more he craved.

Her hands slid along his cheeks and jaw, fingertips tickling at his hairline, and when she spoke, her breath slid against his skin. "I still don't want to be a queen."

He grinned, and she echoed the motion as her thumb brushed the corners of his wide smile. "I will not deny I want to see you crowned beside me, precious. I think you underestimate how well you would take to statecraft. But you may fill whatever role you wish." Smoothing his hands down her sides, he followed the curve of her hip to her thighs. "Consort. Mistress." He brushed a kiss against her lips. "Wife."

She chuckled. "Are you proposing?"

"You have had a standing proposal from me for some years, Sarah. My answer has always been yes."

"Because you had no choice."

"And because I desire you as I've desired no other," he said in truth. He gripped her thighs and pulled her against the evidence of that desire, and she gave a little gasp. Tracing patterns along the soft cotton of her pants, he began moving his hand further up her leg. "Shall I prove it to you?"

"Yes," she whispered, voice breathy and heavy with arousal.

Jareth rose with her in his lap, her legs encircling him as he summoned up his chambers and, most importantly, his bed. A little magic and she was naked in his arms, and then he was lying her down on the furs and kissing his way down her body.

Sarah did not quiet her cries, clutching the silk into fists by her side as he brought her to one orgasm after another. He stopped when she begged him, her limbs trembling as though she were wholly overcome. She wrapped her legs around him as he crawled his way back up, kissing her roughly as her nails pressed into the skin of his back.

He rolled on his back, and she lay half-draped over him, her breath still coming in soft little pants. She kept her eyes closed, and like that, he could pretend he would see her whole when she opened them. For just a moment, he could forget the terrible events of the last few days and simply be with her.

Sarah traced whorls along his skin, reminding him of the glyph on the back of his hand. He wondered if she was doing it intentionally. "Now, I'm starving. Could I trouble you for something?"

"What would you like, precious?"

"Something hearty, I think." She sat up, unconscious of her singular beauty as a sheet of her dark hair fell forward to cover her breasts. He wanted to capture the image on a canvas, only he knew he did not have the skill. Not and keep her vibrance shining through.

Jareth summoned a meal on a tray table next to the bed. A meat pie and more fruit, pomegranate juice, and a pitcher of cool water. He helped Sarah find it, but she shooed him away when he tried to help her eat.

"Even if this is temporary, I need to fend for myself," she said.

Jareth summoned up a dressing gown for her to wear while she ate and went to the wall, where he had a few mirrors. He touched his fingertips to the surface of one and called out, "Regina, I have need of you."

The face of his healer swam into view on his mirror. "My king," she bowed, the crown of her short-cropped brown hair visible for a moment before she straightened again. Her keen grey eyes did a swift assessment of his personage, as he was used to her doing. She had healed him more than once when he had been unaware the curse or injury had been inflicted. Many creatures of Faerie struck in such ways, hoping to drain their victim's life without their knowledge until it was too late. Regina had prevented at least two incidents from occurring.

"How fares the infirmary?" he inquired.

She made a face. For an ogre, she was a diminutive specimen. Only six feet tall, her charcoal skin tinged a deep green as blood rushed to her cheeks. "We've had an outbreak of dragon scale pox among the goblins in the city center. I leave the broken bones, scrapes, and cuts to my nurses and focus on making house calls to your court. You know how it is." She tilted her head. "I hear the aboveground has a plague raging."

"Indeed. Nothing I can acquire, I'm sure, but that is not why I need to speak to you." He motioned behind him, where Sarah was still nibbling at her food, head cocked as she listened to their conversation. "The champion has been hit with lamia venom across the eyes. She has been blinded. It has been this way for several days now. Is there anything you can to do for circumstances such as these?"

Regina tapped one of her large bottom incisors. "There might be. Can I see her?" There was more than a subtle hint of curiosity to her voice as she attempted to peer around Jareth to catch a glimpse.

He turned from the mirror. "Sarah? Do you mind if Regina gets a look at you?"

She nodded, wiping her face with a napkin as he came to her side. He took her hand and drew her to the mirror. His healer looked at her with ill-contained awe. "This is the champion, sire?"

"Yes. Regina, meet Sarah Williams. Sarah, this is Regina. She runs the royal infirmary and is my private physician."

"Hello," Sarah said, looking just a little off from where the ogre really was. "Have you dealt with something like this before?"

"Not personally," she said with a grunt, as close as the mirror would allow. "Could you step forward a little, please?" Jareth guided her with hands to her shoulders, and Regina clicked her tongue. "But I've read up on treatments for lamia venom. I've given effective antidotes to those accidentally poisoned by the stuff, but I've never dealt with a blinding. Your majesty," she turned her attention to Jareth. "If I were to craft a potion, could I get it to you?"

"I can make a portal, yes."

"Good. Sarah, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to make a potion which will need to be applied directly to your eyes. I won't lie to you... this won't be pleasant in any way. After the potion is applied, you'll need to wrap your eyes and keep them covered for two days. An _entire_ two days." Her severe expression gentled some as Sarah's face fell. "This will work, my lady. You'll be able to see again, I promise."

"Thank you," she said, her voice small. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Regina's eyes found his. "My liege, if you would open a portal in my private apothecary within the next hour, I should have the potion ready."

When the connection closed, Sarah reached out, grasping his hand and following it to his shoulder, stepping close and pressing against him. "I'm not going to be blind forever," she whispered.

 _Thank the gods._ "Yes. And this comes at no cost to you, precious." _Remember that when you're dealing with my brother._

"Thank you."

He placed a gentle kiss against her forehead. "Of course, Sarah."

Jareth helped her with the rest of her meal despite her complaining she could do it herself. He enjoyed feeding her and licking away any juices or crumbs which escaped her mouth. She finished everything he gave her by the time he summoned up a portal and a speaking mirror to Regina's private workspace. They spoke for a moment, the healer explaining the particulars of the potion—a thorough analysis he humored with some impatience—before sending a goblin through the mirror with the tincture in a small, cushioned basket.

The goblin—Azra—delighted at being in the aboveground, even for a moment, looking around with its wide yellow eyes. It pointed at Sarah and began jumping excitedly. "The champion! It's the champion!"

Sarah smiled, and Azra moved as though to scurry to her side, but Jareth punted him back toward the portal. "Go on," he said. "You've done your duty. Go before I bog you."

"Stop being a bully, Jareth," Sarah scolded. Regina laughed, and Azra bolted through the portal without a backward glance. He closed the portal and turned back to the ogre. "Do you mind waiting until after I've applied the potion? I want to speak to you in case something goes wrong."

"Yes, my king," she said, bowing her head. "But be prepared, the both of you. This will be incredibly painful."

"Of course it will be," Sarah grumbled.

Jareth instructed her to lay down on the bed, and he knelt beside it, cradling the small glass vial. The potion inside was lime green with a dropper for precise application. "Ready?" He asked.

She sighed and gripped a pillow to her chest. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He applied the potion to the first eye, and Sarah's back bowed off the bed, the motion seeming to be involuntary as her mouth opened in a silent gasp. Without waiting, he did the same to the other eye, and her whimper of pain sent a lance through his heart. "I'm sorry, love," he whispered, summoning the wrap needed and starting to apply it around her eyes. "It's over."

"It burns," she said, voice breathy. "Gods, it burns worse than when I woke up in the wilds."

Jareth finished bandaging her eyes, checking his work, and nodding with satisfaction. Sarah reached up to the white linen, and he stopped her hand. "Try not to touch it." She gripped his fingers, her hold tight on him. She was still trembling.

"He's right," Regina called from where the mirror hung on the opposite wall. "You should attempt to leave it alone, my lady. It will aid in healing." She looked at Jareth. "What we don't want to see is itching or continued burning after the first hour. She should be comfortable over the next few days, stay hydrated and well-fed. When the wrappings are removed, she should avoid brightly lit places for at least three days. She'll be sensitive to light and struggle with night vision until the healing is complete. If there is any vomiting or fever, reach out to me immediately. It's a rare reaction, but it happens sometimes. I'll have the counter potion ready just in case."

"Thank you," he said, and Sarah echoed him. Regina bowed, and Jareth waved a hand, dismissing the mirror. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"It still feels like you melted my eyeballs," she said wryly. "Now, you said something about helping me sleep. I don't suppose that means I can sleep with you again?"

"You can sleep with me however often you please," he said and meant it. "Are you still feeling the effects of the selkie's drug?"

"I think so. I feel restless, even though I'm bone tired. Will I see you in my dreams? I miss your face."

He cupped her cheek, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So long as you invite me in, Sarah, I'll be there. Count on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies,
> 
> This is a bit fluffier than the last few chapters but I figured we kind of needed it.
> 
> Things will go back to "normal" soon. *evil laugh*
> 
> Love,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

_Sarah_

_What have I done?_

_With my heart on the floor_

_I must be out of my mind_

_To come back begging for more_

_But if you stay_

_If you just stay for the night_

_Swear that I'm yours_

_And I'll prove that I'm right_

_\- Litost_ , X Ambassaders

**October 5 th, 2002. Day 18 of quarantine.**

Jareth visited her while she slept, and she wasted no time kissing him senseless while ripping at his clothes. Things slipped forward and back in the way of dreams. She was clothed, and then she was not. They were kissing, and then he was seated deep within her. He told her they didn’t have to do this, and then she was falling to her knees before him.

His teeth at her throat.

Her head thrown back.

Crashing into her. Coming apart. There was nothing that was not him. His eyes smoldering, the soft fall of his hair against her breasts. He twisted them, so she rode him, and she marveled in the sight of him beneath her. His lean body stretched out, fingers woven through hers.

Then she woke in the dark.

One moment he was hot and throbbing within her, and the next, she was lying chilled and empty next to him. Only she was not entirely cold. Her core pulsed with need, and when she shifted her thighs, she felt how slick she was. And an incredible warmth radiating from her left, inviting her to touch, to take, and caress.

She rolled to her side, reaching for him, fingertips finding the bare skin of his chest and the sharp points of his pendant. Tracing the metal talisman, she felt him begin to stir. “Jareth,” she whispered. “That dream—”

He grasped her before she finished her sentence, rolling her on top of him. His hands tangled in her hair, bringing her mouth down to his. She breathed in the heady scent of him. He smelled like the moments before a thunderstorm, petrichor, and electric possibility, and that scent that reminded her of the Labyrinth itself. Old magic.

Jareth’s hands flew down her body, rolled her nipple between clever digits, and felt for the wet heat between her legs. She gasped and bucked against his fiery fingers, almost dizzy with the sensation. She hated not seeing, but the lack of sight made her other senses come alive. She nipped his lip and smiled against his growl while he continued to work her. Surges of warmth spread through her until she trembled above him, still locked to his mouth but wanting more.

She ripped away from the kiss as her orgasm hit her. Her fingertips dug into his chest while she gasped and cried out, writhing against his skillful hand. “Jareth,” she moaned.

He pulled his hand away from her and flipped them, so he ground between her open thighs, his breath hot against her throat. “I want you,” he whispered. “Gods, Sarah, I want you like I need to breathe.”

A whimper fell from her lips as she clutched him and reached for the juncture of their bodies, feeling him stiff and heavy in her hand. He hissed and thrust against her. She arched her back and stroked him, loving the sounds he made. “I want you too,” she whispered back at him. “Don’t stop.”

He went very still above her, even as she continued to touch him. The tips of his pendant grazed her chest in a hot line. He let out a gusty sigh and buried his head against her neck. “I want nothing more than to be inside you, Sarah precious.” He lifted his head and pressed a kiss against her cheek. She hummed and leaned into it, but he pulled away. “It may be selfish, but I want your eyes on mine when you come,” he murmured. “I want you watching me while I join with you.”

She shivered and pushed against his chest until he shifted, and she pressed him back down on the bed. Her fingers found his lips, and she moaned into a swift, hard kiss. “Then there are other things I want to do,” she whispered.

Jareth said nothing but let loose his own groan of pleasure as she kissed her way down his chest and took him in her mouth. Sarah had never much cared for this act in the past, but the way he tasted, the way he smelled, made the experience into something which made her core pulse in time to each of his inhaled breaths. His muscles clenched as she ran her hands up his thighs to his stomach, and his hands fisted in her hair as her pace quickened.

“Sarah...” he said, the word a plea and a warning both.

She gripped the base of him, squeezing as she sucked him down as far as she could. His breathing sped up, and he let out a hoarse cry, her name on his lips as he emptied himself into her.

When she pulled away, he grasped her arms, pulling her up against his body, so he could kiss her with abandon. She leaned in, threading fingers into the silkiness of his hair and losing herself to the moment. Because at that moment, he was everything. Every sense. Every breath. Jareth’s heart beat hard against his ribs and in the pulse point along his neck. Magic licked between them, little jolts which left her breathless.

He reached for her again between her legs, rolling her gently, so she lay beneath him, but never breaking the kiss which had turned slow and sensuous, with languid brushes of tongue and teeth. Never had she been kissed like this, even from him. The sweet press of his mouth made her feel as though she were the only thing in the world to him, too. And then his scorching fingers were sliding inside her, and all her thoughts turned liquid.

Jareth took his time, and she could tell in the way his lips quirked up that he was enjoying every second of blissful torture he put her through. When she crested and crashed at long last, his mouth was there to swallow up each cry.

Sarah clutched him, realizing in the same moment he did that tracks of tears wet her cheeks. “What is it, love?”

Her lips trembled and throbbed with the lack of him, but she managed a smile. “I’ve just never felt anything like this before. Not with anyone.”

A finger traced the edges of her mouth. “Neither have I.”

Her throat suddenly thick, she felt for his face and drew him down for another kiss, tender and swift. He held her for a long while, rolling to his back, so she could wrap herself around his body. Her fingers played with his talisman. “Remember our first kiss?”

“Vividly.”

“There was something so right about you. I’ve been fighting it for a long time, I think.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest and sighed. “But even after I said no and pushed you away, I could not stop thinking about it. For years.”

“I could tell,” he said, something smug in his tone.

Sarah grinned. “You’re so full of yourself.” He hugged her tighter, and she relaxed further into the warmth of his arms. “I’m scared to go back.”

“To the underground?”

“Yes. What if something else comes after me?” Her grip around him tightened. “What if this time you can’t find me?”

“I’ll always find you,” he said, his voice a rumble beneath her ear. “But there is something I wanted to discuss with you.”

“What is it?” Again, she wished she might see him instead of relying upon his tone of voice and how his body tensed or relaxed. But she also loved the liberty it gave her to touch him.

“Remember the bracelet I gave you which allowed us to communicate with each other while you met with Aldric?”

“Yes. He turned it to ash. I figured that’s why you never gave me another one. Because he’d do the same thing again.”

“True enough, precious. But there is a spell I could work he would never be able to break. A way for us to communicate with each other through the worlds. The only reason I have not brought it up before now is that it is permanent. There is no unweaving it, even if the original caster is the one to make an attempt.” His fingers traced the curve of her ear, and goosebumps rose along her spine.

Sarah licked her lips and swallowed. “So, I would hear you, and you would hear me all the time?”

“No. The spellwork is tied to ink. You have some in your body, in that lovely tattoo on your shoulder. Whenever you touch it, you can send a message directly to me. In turn, I will have a mark somewhere on my body that if I touch it, I can speak to you. This way, if you are ever taken again, you’ll always have a way to reach me.” His hand glided through her hair, fanning it out. “I would not abuse this link, my Sarah. I promise.”

There was a large part of her that was reticent. A portion of her which still pictured a relatively normal life after the quarantine lifted. But there had been monumental changes in the last few weeks. Ones she could never have anticipated but which had altered the trajectory of her life considerably. “I’m always going to be hunted, aren’t I?”

“Not necessarily, love. My protection has been enough to secure your independence for many years. That protection has been weakened by my inability to connect to the Labyrinth. I rely on its power to keep you safe.” His hand came to rest on the crown of her head, fingertips still playing a little along her hairline. “Once I have access again, that protection will snap back into place. If I could remove it, I would have offered it to you more than a week ago, but because it’s permanent, I never considered it as an option until now.”

Sarah lifted herself up on her elbows. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m leaning toward a yes, but I want to think it over for a little while. It’s a big commitment.”

His hand cupped her face, then his thumb ran over her lips, which were swollen from his kisses. “Take whatever time you need, precious.”

Jareth helped her into the bathroom, and she shooed him away. “I need some privacy. I’ll be fine; I navigate the shower with my eyes closed all the time.”

He kissed her forehead. “Call me if you need me, and be careful of your wrappings. I’ll make breakfast.”

Sarah took her time under the warm spray, retracing the path Jareth’s hands had taken with soap which smelled of orange and ginger. She kept touching the shower wall to steady herself, the constant dark making it difficult to stay balanced. When she turned off the water, she could smell toasted cinnamon and sugar.

She managed to dry herself, get to her bedroom and put on what she felt was a perfectly functional outfit—yoga pants and a tank top, with a cardigan thrown over it. Everything took three times as long. The apartment she thought she knew so well presented unforeseen obstacles, and Sarah nearly tripped over some clothes she had left on the floor.

The entire time she was distracted by whether or not to accept the communication spell. It would be incredibly useful if creatures like Fia and Khana got to her again. _I would not abuse this link_ , he had said to her. And Sarah once again faced the question she had been asking herself ever since she had accepted Jareth as a suitor: _can I trust him?_

She made her way to the kitchen, hand sliding over the rough plaster of the wall to keep herself oriented. The fragrance of baked goods and the sound of frying bacon grew stronger the closer she got. Gooseflesh prickled along her neck, raising the fine hairs there, and Sarah knew his attention lay on her. She stopped outside the wide archway, unsure of the distance between the wall and the bar stools.

He strode toward her at once, his hand closing over hers and giving a soft tug. “This way.” When she was settled on one of the seats, Jareth went back into the kitchen. “Everything will be ready in a moment.”

“It smells delicious.” She tucked her damp hair behind her ear. “I feel bad. You’re always cooking for me. I think I’ve only made three meals the entire time you’ve been here.”

“I enjoy doing this, Sarah. It is a rarity I am allowed time to slow down and experiment with food the way I want to. There are affairs of state to attend to, and of course, the difficulty of keeping a clean kitchen in a castle full of goblins.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “There are many drawbacks to being stuck in your world, but the quiet and peace are not among them.”

Jareth soon had plates for both of them set on the bar between the kitchen and living room and had taken the seat next to her, his knees brushing against hers. They ate while chatting a little about the books they were currently reading, all the while Sarah flipped over the pros and cons of the spell. When they had finished, and Jareth was done cleaning up, she said, “I think I want to do it.”

“Do what, precious?”

“The spell, in the tattoo. I want to do it.”

He let out a breath. “Thank you, Sarah. I promise you won’t come to regret it.”

There was not much prep work. Jareth led her to the couch and helped her out of her cardigan, smoothing his bare hand over the peach blossom tattoo. Explaining what he did each step of the way, he summoned a crystal and pushed it into the skin of her shoulder. To Sarah, it felt as though someone had cracked an egg _into_ her body, a spreading cold infusing the area.

“I need to install my own, and then it will be done.”

“Are you going to put it into the mark on your hand?”

He chuckled. “No, precious. I have to create a new spot on my body for a mark to go. Have any suggestions?”

“I do, actually. But I need your help to find it. Can you take me to my desk?” He did, and she felt for one of her drawers, pulling it open and pushing aside loose papers until she found the small spiral-bound sketchbook she had been doodling in for years whenever her thoughts strayed to the Labyrinth or her Goblin King. She held it out for him. “In some of the last pages are a few designs you might think about. If you want,” she added shyly. “I’m not the best.”

There was the sound of rustling pages, and Jareth let out a breath. “Owls.”

Heat suffused her face. “It’s silly, I—”

“It’s perfect, Sarah. You are a very talented illustrator. I think I know which one I want.”

“Can you describe it to me?”

He laughed, and she felt the brush of his lips against her forehead. “I’d like to leave it as a surprise. Give me a few moments.”

The scent of ozone filled the air, and after a few seconds passed, Sarah heard his voice slide through her mind, a little louder than a whisper. _Can you hear me?_

She touched her shoulder. Tingles erupted from the spot. _Yes_ , she thought back. _This is kind of cool._

“I’m glad you think so, precious.”

Her stomach did a little flip. She had just connected herself to Jareth in a way she could have never anticipated even a week ago. But though a part of her still worried over what it could mean and what he could do now, the majority of her was relieved. She felt safer.

Fingertips grazed her bottom lip, followed a moment later by his mouth. His hair tickled her cheeks, the kiss slow and gentle, a subtle scraping of skin against skin. It was enough to inflame her, desire coiling like a spring.

Then the tapping started.

Sarah pulled away from Jareth with an exasperated sound. “Aldric is calling.”

He huffed. “Of course. Let me pack you some supplies.”

She went back to the couch, finding her cardigan and slipping it on. The desire to touch her shoulder and speak to him was strong, his voice in her mind like velvet or satin. She wanted to roll in the sensation of it all. “Has the portal mirror arrived?”

“Yes. It’s in the hall as usual.” Jareth moved to her side, a line of heat against her skin telling her where he stood. He wrapped her hand around the straps of a heavy bag. “Take care while you’re with him, Sarah, love.”

“There’s actually something you can do to help me with before I leave.” She described to him what a white cane was, and a moment later, she had a light, slender pole in her hand. She stumbled a little as she tried to navigate the living room with it. “It’ll take some getting used to, but this will be better than relying on Aldric to lead me everywhere.”

“Agreed,” Jareth said, following her as she made her slow way to the hall. He embraced her from behind when she stopped before what she knew to be the mirror, the scent of magic heavy in the air. He kissed the side of her neck. “Be safe. Be smart. Above all, remember I am here for you whenever you need it. I’m only a touch away.”

Sarah twisted in his arms, reaching for him, finding his hands buried in her hair and his lips seeking hers. She sighed into the kiss, their breath mingling, his sweet and tasting of cinnamon and orange frosting. There was a great deal of reluctance as she pulled away. “I’ll see you soon.”

Feeling for the edges of the mirror, Sarah lifted her leg and stepped through, Aldric’s hands helping her out on the other side. “Good afternoon, pet.”

Sarah tilted her head toward his voice. “You sound strange.” And he did. There was an edge to his voice she had never heard before.

He let out a small huff of laughter. “How would you feel if the object of your affection came into view with the signs of being kissed by another? I can smell him on you, Sarah, and your lovely lips look ravished.” A hand squeezed her elbow, the motion gentle before the touch fell away. “I cannot help but feel I have lost.”

She did not know what to say to that, and he laughed again into the silence, the edge back. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “It’s just... we have a history. A long one. I barely know you.”

“I know,” he said. “Come. There is something I want to show you.”

She shouldered her pack and began tapping around with the white cane. “Where are we? This isn’t your tent.” The floor beneath her was wooden, not carpet laid over dirt, and the room they were in felt cavernous.

“It is my estate in the wilds. I’ll be spending the next several days here before returning to camp. We’re in the ballroom.” There was the tread of his boots on the floor leading away, and she started to follow, moving cautiously with the aid of her stick. “There are some matters I need to attend to here before I can rejoin my troops.”

“What sort of things?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“When I declared war on your paramour, I may have made some other nobles nervous and a few outright furious. Jareth is the main source of human changelings. The wished-away children are often brought up by childless fae couples, of which there are more than a few. Has Jareth told you about our species difficulty in conceiving?”

Sarah shook her head, an uneasy feeling coming over her. Drawn in by his forthrightness, she had to remind herself truths were subjective, and Aldric had already twisted and manipulated her into accepting a fifth hour in the underground. “No, he hasn’t.”

He clicked his tongue. “It’s another reason human changelings and the fae touched are so prized. It is far easier for a fae and human coupling to result in children, especially if the human is female.”

The sense of foreboding strengthened and Sarah slowed her steps. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“You asked about my business here. I need to reassure those who would come to Jareth’s rescue that they will still have access to the aboveground and its mortals once I seize control of the Labyrinth.”

The matter-of-fact way Aldric said those words sent a shiver down Sarah’s spine. “What if the Labyrinth doesn’t accept you?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s just say I have several contingencies in place to prevent that from happening. I have been studying the ways to conquer this anomalous place ever since my brother acquired it. The notes left by my sisters helped, but there was still much they had yet to learn. Things I have gleaned from careful observation, and a few well-placed spies.”

Once again, she felt drawn in by the confessional style of his conversation. “So that’s what you think is going to happen, that you’ll become the new Goblin King?” She was almost sick at the words. There was only one way Jareth would let Aldric take his throne, and that was if he were dead.

“Why not? I am of the nobility. I am better known than him and better loved. There are only a few holdouts, and they will be arriving within the next day. I’m to host them while we discuss what the future of the underground will be. Ah, here we are.” His footsteps stopped, and there was the whisper of a door opening on well-oiled hinges. “After you, pet.”

Sarah made her way into the room, her hand outstretched along with the cane. That hand brushed against his chest as she passed him, and she heard the slight intake of breath. It made blood rush to her face, and she looked down, knowing she was blushing.

The room was quite large as well, though it did not have the echoing, grand feeling of the one they had come from. Sarah stopped a few steps into the space and waited. There was the soft click of the door closing behind her.

The hair rose on the back of her neck a moment before his fingers brushed her there, hot through the linen of his gloves. “Step forward a little more.” She did, but his fingers did not leave the spot as he moved with her. “Reach out. No, a little more to your left. There.”

Sarah’s hand collided with something warm and rough and _alive._ She jerked back as a muffled cry reached her ears. “What is this?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Her hand sought out the creature. Leather with thick stitching greeted her touch this time before she traced it down to a bare, wrinkled cheek, a jowly chin, and narrow shoulders. She let out a startled sound, pulling her hand back again to cover her mouth. She had almost said his name, but maybe Aldric didn’t know?

“This is Hoggle. A dear friend of yours, I believe.”

Her stomach sank. “What are you doing with him?”

“Holding him hostage,” he said, his tone almost gleeful. “I have a favor to ask of you, Sarah, and I really cannot have you saying no. If you say no, I’m afraid the dwarf here will be in for a very bad time. But if you say yes, I will release him and pledge never to use him in such a way again. He’ll be free to return home.”

She clenched her jaw, an icy rage rushing through her, making her limbs tremble. “What’s this supposed _favor_?” She spat, reaching for the tattoo. She needed to let Jareth know what was going on.

“Touch that spell, and I’ll remove one of his fingers,” Aldric said, tone cold. She dropped her hand. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” He scoffed. “You may as well have let Jareth brand you like a prize heifer.”

Sarah prickled. “What is it you want?”

“I need someone on my arm while these fae come to visit. Someone warm and affectionate. Someone known far and wide as the only champion the Labyrinth has ever seen. You are crucial to my convincing these people to switch any potential allegiance from Jareth to me. And you can’t be seen sporadically, you’ll need to remain here for the next four days. You must convince them you belong to me.” He paused, and there was a warm air current that passed her face. She flinched away from it. “There will be no more flinching from me, Sarah pet. If you do this, you need to accept my touch.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“You might,” he said, teasing threading through his voice. “You gave my brother a chance to seduce you, but you never extended me the same courtesy. Perhaps you’ll like my touch more than you think.”

“He’s not holding my friend hostage.”

“How many lies and half-truths do you think he has woven since you’ve known him, _hm_? At least I will be upfront about it. I will use every advantage I can find to keep you by my side. I want you, pet. And I always get what I want.” His fingers grazed her jaw, and despite the turmoil in her mind, she stayed put, letting his touch trace up to her ear and down her neck. “What say you, Sarah? Will you do me this favor?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Not much of one, I grant you, yet I still need your oath and answer if we are to proceed with letting this creature go back to his little life. Formalities must be observed.” What sounded like a slew of muffled curses came from the space Hoggle occupied. “Be silent,” Aldric hissed. “I’ve heard enough of your voice, dwarf.”

Sarah took a deep breath, her heart pounding, and stomach plunging. She wanted to talk to Jareth, her fingers practically itching with the need to touch the tattoo and tell him everything. Yet even if she could, she knew there was not much which could be done in these circumstances. Aldric had Hoggle. She was lucky, she knew, he only asked for four days. She would do much and more to save her friend’s life. “Alright,” she said, swallowing hard. “You have my oath I’ll stay here for the next four days and play along as your... consort.”

There was a pressure of magic in the air. “In exchange, I vow your friend Hoggle will be released from my custody and brought safely to his home, free to live out the rest of his days in peace.”

Sarah clutched her cane in both hands, her grip so tight she knew her knuckles would be white. “It’s a deal.”

Ozone was suddenly thick upon the air, and the pressure released as the bargain took hold. Aldric snapped his fingers, and magic peppered the air again. “I’ve sent your friend home. I would have let you speak to him further, only I find his kind insufferable. Honestly, I don’t know what you see in him.”

Sarah shook with suppressed anger, which only grew when his hands came to rest on her shoulders. “Your guests aren’t here yet. I’d appreciate it if you don’t touch me until they are.”

“Don’t want to practice, Sarah pet? I assure you it would be pleasurable.” Despite his words, he pulled his hands back. “Come. I have a suite of rooms prepared for you. They adjoin with my own.”

She followed the sound of his movements, using her cane to check for any potential obstacles. One positive was the manor had wide walkways, without the clutter of too much furniture. “Am I allowed to speak to Jareth while I’m here?”

“Of course. Only not in the presence of the guests. That would be a tell. I can see the mark of my brother’s magic, but to the others, they will only see you have a communication spell. We can pretend it’s one you have with me. Did he tell you this is permanent?”

“Yes,” the word was clipped. “Despite what you so obviously think, he doesn’t keep everything from me.”

Aldric gave a soft snort. “He keeps enough.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. He held the door open for her. “There’s an en suite bathroom I think you’ll find acceptable, and two rooms. This is the parlor; to your left is the door to your bedroom.”

“And these rooms are attached to yours?” She did nothing to disguise her disgust.

“Our parlors have a shared door, yes. But there is a lock on both sides. There is a key in yours. They both have to be unlocked for the door to open.” He paused. “I will have my servants attend you later. You will join me for dinner.” He did not phrase it as a request. “There are oils and soaps in the bath which will more thoroughly remove Jareth’s scent. Your mortal means are unsatisfactory.”

Sarah felt as though a spring were twisting tighter and tighter in her gut. She felt a moment away from exploding. “Fine,” she said. “Can I get some privacy, please?”

“As you wish. I will see you soon.”

She did not respond, only waited until she heard the door snick closed behind her. She immediately raised her hand to her shoulder. _Jareth?_

_Yes, precious, I’m here._

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she slid to the floor, telling him everything that had happened. _I didn’t know what else to do_ , she finished. _I’m afraid. If he got Hoggle, who else could he have?_

_Remember what I told you, Sarah. He will use your soft heart against you. Do not sacrifice everything you are to save your friends._

_But they would do the same thing for me, and it’s my fault they get targeted in the first place. Oh, Jareth._ She sighed aloud. _I wish I had never made the stupid bargain to come to the underground. I’m frightened this is only the beginning._

Jareth was silent for some time. When he spoke, his words were slow and careful. _You have done the best you could do with the resources at your disposal. Whatever you do, do not renege on your promises. If he is ever given total control over you, he will strip away your free will. He does not want you for you. He wants the power you represent. Be careful, love. Please._

Sarah let out a sigh. _I wish I had been able to see you before I left_.

_We’ll have more opportunities, precious. Do not worry._

There came a knock on the door, and she lifted her head. “Who is it?”

“Maisy and Gretchen, miss. We’re to help you with your bath?” The voice was kind but businesslike. “May we come in?”

_His servants have arrived to help prep me for dinner,_ Sarah said, tone dry.

_Be careful. And reach out to me as often as you can, please. I’ll keep an eye on you as much as possible, but it has always been difficult to see through my brother’s warding._

She promised she would stay in touch, then called out to the two women. The one who had spoken through the door, Maisy, clucked her tongue. “What are you doing on the floor, miss? Let’s get you up and into the bath.”

She let herself be tended to, staying silent despite the two women’s friendly banter and gentle teasing. They appeared to be titillated there was a fae touched in the house and that she “belonged” to Master Aldric. Sarah guessed the farce extended to the staff to some degree, unwilling to say anything to the contrary if it broke the bounds of the agreement. She had to play the part. If she did not, she could lose everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> This chapter was difficult for me to write. Not for the usual reasons, either.
> 
> It's hard to write about two people in love when I just got the court date for my divorce. It hit me a lot harder than I expected. I thought I had moved firmly into "Fuck this guy" territory and would be glad to be rid of him. Instead, I feel raw, like I've been hollowed out. I have shed too many tears to count.
> 
> I used to have arms to hold me when I felt this way. Now I have nothing. Well. I have a cat that really likes to be the little spoon, but it's not the same.
> 
> I'll be taking a break after this chapter. I need to regroup. I also need to concentrate on the final installment of my original fiction trilogy. NaNoWriMo is underway, and I'm hoping to complete at least the first third of my novel during that time. #Goals
> 
> This story is still a priority for me. It's my "comfort food" project. It's a pleasure to work on and a great deal of fun. I won't abandon it. I'm only taking a brief hiatus. You'll probably see a lot more activity around late January/early February. Maybe. We also have to move before April, but not knowing exactly when puts things up in the air.
> 
> I wrote a short one-shot called "I Dare You." It has a much darker, morally ambiguous Jareth, but it was a plot bunny which needed to be written down. The tone is very different than 31/32 here, but if you're into that sort of thing, I think I did a fairly decent job at it.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and all the love. You are my favorite people.
> 
> Xoxo,
> 
> CrimsonSympathy


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Sarah_

_You think you know who you are_

_You didn’t fool me at all_

_I can still feel in the dark_

_You whispered all of your lies_

_Cause you couldn’t look in my eyes_

_Only in love for the high._

\- Trust, Sophie Lowe

* * *

**Faerie. Day 1.**

Sarah was plagued by strange dreams. Disjointed, like long shards of shattered glass, they jumbled one into the next. Images of her friends, of Jareth, in various states of distress. Hurting or dying or dead. But more than that were the threads of some greater creature. She could never see it properly. It made her feel as though she were a gnat trying to comprehend the size of a blue whale. It was massive, angry, and afraid. She got the distinct sense it was attempting to reach out to her but falling short.

When she woke, it was to darkness. Sitting up in bed, she touched the linen wraps around her eyes. _Tomorrow I can take these off_ , she thought. _Then I’ll be able to see again._ It had been a week and a half, and she was already growing used to not having her eyes.

She brought up the image of Jareth in her mind. His sharp smile and gleaming mismatched eyes, the wildness of his hair. Stomach twisting at the memory, she flipped back the covers and slid from the bed, grabbing her white stick from where she had left it leaning against a nightstand.

Tapping her way into a bathroom she had been thankful was modern enough to have a toilet, Sarah closed the door behind her even though she was alone. There was no telling who might pop up in a place like this. Trust was earned.

She took her time with her morning ablutions, scratching a little under her linen wrappings where they crossed over her hair. Even with two other women to help her bathe last night, they could not wash past the bandages, so her scalp itched a little. _Another reason to look forward to tomorrow_.

There was a knock on the restroom door, and she turned her head toward the sound. “Who is it?”

“It’s Gretchen, m’lady. I’ve come to help you dress.”

Sarah smoothed her hands down the nightdress they had helped her into last night. She had attempted to insist that she could dress herself, but Maisy and Gretchen were not to be deterred, apparently. Grabbing her stick, she opened the door, and a moment later, a warm hand slipped into hers, and the woman was tugging her along. “What role do you serve here?” she asked her. “Are you always at Aldric’s estate?”

“No, m’lady, we move between here and his lodgings in the Seelie court. He has a suite of rooms in the palace, as well, and sometimes we tend to him there.” She took the white stick from Sarah’s hands. “He has some attendants who also follow him when he is on a campaign, but I am not one of those.”

“So, what are you?” She had to swallow the impulse to say, _Jareth never speaks of servants._

There was a pause. “I,” she stammered a little and went silent for a stretch. “I’m a brownie, missus. Many of our kind are pledged to serve the high fae. Don’t you know?”

Sarah shook her head. “I’ve been in the human world a long time, Gretchen, and I haven’t known Aldric long. Not long enough to understand the intricacies of life in the underground.” She paused, then asked, voice hesitant, “Does he treat you well?”

“Oh,” the brownie breathed. “Of course, mistress. But we never serve cruel masters. Now, do you want the green dress or the blue?”

She wanted to wear her own clothes but somehow knew that Aldric would want her presentable while they kept up this charade. “Blue,” she said. “What does it look like?”

“I’ll put it on you first, m’lady, and then you can feel it while I describe it to you.”

Sarah acquiesced and waited while Gretchen dressed her. First, there was a set of undergarments that were like a spaghetti strap and long shorts, all a thin cotton that breathed well. Then there was a corset, which she hated but tolerated, covering her from bust to hip. A slip went over this, with long belled sleeves cuffed at her wrists. The fabric felt gauzy and loose. Gretchen helped her shrug into a fine overdress, sleeveless and laced up the front to accentuate her small waist and flared hips. She ran her hands down the rough cloth.

“The laces are spun with strands of real gold,” the brownie said. “So they gleam as you move. Your dress has threads of gold woven through it all, in the brocade pattern and the texture of the fabric. We’ll style your hair up today, I think, and perhaps ask Master Aldric if you can wear one of the sapphire necklaces from the treasury.”

Sarah felt her mouth drop open. “One of? How rich is he?” She laughed a little, but when Gretchen did not respond, she said, “I’m only joking. I don’t need to know.”

“You truly do not know, mistress?” The other woman sounded almost amused. “Master Aldric is one of the richest of the not just the Seelie court, but the entire underground. His riches rival the hoards of dragons.”

“There are dragons?”

Gretchen giggled. “Of course.”

Sarah tried to take a deep breath and found herself restricted by the corset. She huffed. “I don’t know anything about this place.”

“You’ll learn. We’ll teach you.” The brownie sounded eager. “I’m sure Master Aldric will want you to understand more about your new home.”

She stiffened, and a cold chill ran down her spine. “My new home?” Her lips were numb.

That high-pitched laugh again, a tittering sound that now made Sarah’s skin crawl. “Of course, m’lady. Master Aldric can’t risk you anymore. You must remain by his side.”

Sarah did not know what to say to that, and so remained silent as the other woman guided her to a chair where she brushed out her hair and began piling it atop her head. While she might not see what was being done, she had the impression that Gretchen was attempting to hide the bandages. She spoke while she worked, touching on all manner of subjects but mostly gushing over how excited she was that Master Aldric had “chosen” someone at last.

Sarah’s stomach roiled.

“Gretchen,” a voice called. “You’re talking out of turn again, aren’t you?”

“Maisy,” the younger-sounding brownie squeaked. “I didn’t see you.”

“You wouldn’t.” There was a rustling sound, and Sarah felt a light touch on her elbow. “Master Aldric awaits you in the dining room for breakfast.” When she grabbed for her stick, Maisy wrapped a hand around her upper arm and pulled. “No need for that ugly thing, my lady. I shall guide you.”

“I like being able to get around on my own, thanks.” She made another grab for where she remembered propping it against the wall, fumbling her hands along the soft wallpaper. Her fingertips finally collided with the slender aluminum pole. When Maisy began to lead her again, Sarah let her.

The other attendant was not nearly as chatty as Gretchen, but she spoke partway to the dining room. “You look lovely today, my lady.”

“Thanks,” Sarah murmured, still reeling from the other serving woman’s words. _Your new home._ She wanted to touch the tattoo on her shoulder and send a thought to Jareth. She wanted to talk to him in general after the disquieting dreams of the night before. She had fallen asleep with her hand on it so that she could be in contact with him in the cold, unfamiliar bed.

“I must apologize for Gretchen. She is still young, and she has never met a fae-touched before. Your kind is quite rare in these modern times.”

“Should I ask how old she is? I have the feeling our definitions of young vary greatly.”

Maisy laughed. “She’s only one and twenty.”

“And you?”

The brownie stopped laughing, though there was still mirth in her voice as she answered. “I am nearing my two hundredth year. I’ve been with Master Aldric for most of that time.”

“I hope he’s been good to you.”

“Oh, exceedingly. He is one of the best. But I hear that you have been close with his brother, the Goblin King.” Her tone turned icy. “I was not born in time to meet their sisters, but I had the opportunity to meet Jareth. He is as cruel as they all say. Or worse.”

Sarah’s skin prickled, spreading out from where Maisy lead her, arm tucked into hers. “He can’t have been that bad.”

Maisy scoffed, then lowered her voice and slowed her steps. Sarah had the feeling they were near to the dining room. “That creature broke my sister’s heart and stole her child away, turning him into a goblin. He is evil.”

Sarah’s stomach churned again, and she pursed her lips, saying nothing.

“Ah, Sarah,” a rich voice called out from nearby. “I thought you lost along the way. Was there any trouble?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No trouble.” She pulled away from Maisy and found her hand caught by Aldric’s gloved ones immediately afterward. His touch was searing, yet still not too much. “Why do you wear gloves all the time?”

Aldric laughed, and his other hand was on her cheek a moment later, fingertips smoothing down her jawline. She could not help the way her spine stiffened, but she did not pull away. Maisy was still nearby, and Sarah would not go back on her vow. _If he is given ultimate power over you, he will strip away your free will._ And she knew that he would. “I’ll tell you later,” he said. “For now, I’d like you to meet someone.”

She was drawn into the dining room, which felt cavernous from the slight echo to their footfalls. Aldric put an arm around her waist, fingers splayed possessively across her stomach and stopped them where she could feel the heat of the sun through windows to her right. “Finnick, may I introduce you to Sarah Williams, champion of the Labyrinth? Sarah, this is Finnick, a fae from the Seelie court who has come to stay with us for a few days.”

“I apologize for my early arrival,” a smooth voice said. “Circumstances conspired for this to be the most auspicious of times for traveling. I find that I am anxious to meet Aldric’s paramour. Touched, are you?”

Aldric squeezed her waist, and Sarah smiled. “Yes, it seems so. It is a pleasure.”

“You’re damaged,” the fae said. “Aldric, what is the meaning of this?” There was a thread of real anger in his voice.

“Peace, cousin,” he soothed. “There was an incident with some poachers, yes, but the bandages will come off tomorrow.”

Sarah’s skin crawled, remembering the lamia’s pointed talons and the melodic ocean song of the selkie.

Finnick spoke again, and though there remained a hard edge to his voice, his voice was otherwise level. “One wonders how you let such a treasure slip from you for even a moment. The only champion the Labyrinth has ever known and touched besides. Madam,” there was a touch on her hand, and she raised it, feeling as a set of dry lips brushed along her knuckles. “I am at your service,” he said, and his breath coiled against the skin of her hand. “If there is anything you wish for, please never hesitate to ask. I will endeavor to protect you.”

Aldric’s grip on her waist tightened as Finnick let go of her hand and stepped back. “Ah,” he said, his voice toneless but low enough that she had to suppress the urge to shiver. “Breakfast is served, I believe. Please, sit.”

Sarah heard the scrape of a chair and a rustle of cloth. A moment later and Aldric was guiding her to her own spot, his hands lingering for a moment too long. She smiled anyway, determined to play her role well. “Thank you.”

“Of course, pet,” he murmured, and there was a groan of wood as he took his own seat next to hers. “I’ll fix you a plate.”

While he did, the two fae made a peculiar kind of small talk. A rapid-fire back and forth that had her head spinning after a few quick minutes. She fumbled with her food instead, feeling clumsy compared to what she knew would be graceful motions for the two fae lords.

Aldric took every opportunity he could to touch her. Whether he was feeding her from her plate or brushing crumbs from her lips, every gesture was tender and warm in a way she had not been anticipating. She had expected that Aldric would use his liberties to try and force a kiss or more, even, but every movement seemed deliberate and... sweet.

“We need to settle the wilds,” he was saying. “More of our kind should follow my example and create estates. I have not had an incident here in nearly a hundred years. The denizens of the forest know not to try something when I protect the place.”

“But what about when you’re not here?” Finnick retorted. “How many people did poor Lester lose? Two of his favorite brownies and a fortune in rare manuscripts went up in that blaze. Are you saying you can guarantee the safety of our family? Our staff?”

“Lester’s estate burned because he tried to pull one over on a phoenix, and while the fire was a tragedy for those lives that were lost, it really was his fault, wasn’t it?”

Finnick snorted, and real amusement colored his voice. “That was foolish of him, indeed. Perhaps you have a point, Lord Aldric.”

“Perhaps I do.”

The other laughed again. “You certainly display your wealth and finery with grace,” he said, turning the conversation so swift that Sarah felt like she had whiplash. “But none of your rare paintings or gilded statues or precious manuscripts are as dear as the treasure at your side. How did you come to possess her?”

Her pulse ticked up, and she had to swallow on a dry throat the desire to shout, _I’m not his!_ Hands resting in her lap, she could not help the small jump when Aldric’s fingers curled around hers, blazing hot and possessive. “Do you know of the situation in the aboveground, my friend?”

“No, I’m not in the habit of keeping track of the mortals and their troubles. Why?”

Aldric let out a low, sensuous laugh. Sarah had to resist the urge to shiver, gooseflesh rising along her arms instead. His thumb began brushing slow circles against her skin. “They are amid a global pandemic. A plague.”

She heard the sound of a quick intake of breath, and Aldric’s rich laugh rang out again.

“It’s not something that will affect us, I assure you.” He lifted the hand joined with Sarah’s. “But suffice it to say that the consequences of this disease ended up binding my brother to the mortal world for a span. He goes there once a year, you see, to offer this one,” his fingers tightened around hers for a fraction of a moment. “The queenship.”

Finnick did laugh now, bold and loud. A belly laugh if she had ever heard one. “Your brother, the Goblin King? That’s who you took her from? A mistake, surely. You’ll bring the entire might of the Labyrinth down on your head.”

“Will I?” Aldric’s tone had turned icy. “When she is already at my side, willingly, and he is still trapped in the aboveground?”

“And what when he becomes unstuck, Lord Aldric? What then? He will claim his queen.”

“Oh, she will be queen,” Aldric said. “ _My_ queen. When I take the Labyrinth for myself and become the next Goblin King, I will have her by my side.”

Sarah’s pulse picked up, and she swallowed hard. Finnick still sounded amused as he said, “I do not envy you your task. Jareth is not a power to go up against lightly.”

“You think that I have spent the last few hundred years idle?” His hand convulsed around hers. “He and I would have come to a head soon, regardless.”

“You’re saying that you found out about her, and you struck?”

“No. I found out that he was stuck, and then I moved against him. Sarah here,” he released her hand, but his fingertips trailed up her arm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. “Was an unanticipated treasure.”

“A treasure indeed,” Finnick said, sounding thoughtful.

Sarah’s face flamed. She was getting a little tired of being talked about like she was not in the room, but just as she opened her mouth to say something about it, Aldric said, “But why don’t we ask her? Sarah, pet, tell Finnick how we met.”

Her tongue felt clumsy at first, but as she spoke, her words strengthened. It was the truth, after all. “When Aldric declared war against his brother, Jareth asked me to act as his representative in peace talks. I managed to convince him to cease hostilities against the goblin kingdom in exchange for four hours of my time in the underground each day by his side, up until Jareth was free to return.”

“And then you fell for this brother instead of the other?” Finnick asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

Sarah licked her lips. Some sense was telling her that she should not lie, so she choose her words very carefully. “Aldric told me everything that Jareth kept hidden from me. I ended up spending more time with him. And then he saved me from the lamia and the selkie.”

“The poachers?”

She nodded, uncomfortable with the term and how it implied that she was something to be hunted. “After I was blinded and I came here, I realized I had to stay.”

“Fascinating,” the other fae said, and Sarah could imagine him leaning forward, elbows on the table as he clasped his hands, peering at her with glittering eyes. She pictured him as older. Balding, perhaps, with spectacles and a slight belly. “And so you have no remaining feelings for Jareth?”

Sarah called on every inch of acting talent she ever recalled, all the lessons she took in college and back in her youth. A smug, sexy smile slid across her face. “Would you ask every secret of a woman’s heart?”

Finnick burst out laughing, and after half a beat, Aldric joined in. She smiled a little more and reached for a glass. Aldric passed it to her, his heated fingers brushing hers. “Does she not delight?” he asked, a warm note of affection coloring his voice. Sarah bit her tongue but kept the rest of her body relaxed, pretending that she was adrift, her limbs feeling light and airy.

“She is quite special,” the visiting fae said, and she could detect a twinge of jealousy. “Keep her close.”

“Oh, I shall.”

They continued to chat about little things. Sarah did not eat any more, her appetite evaporating along with her words. Instead, she sipped the rose-scented water and occasionally interjected with a quip or a clarification. The flow of the conversation became easy, and they began laughing together as though they were all long-time friends.

For a small moment, Sarah almost forgot that she was here against her will.

“I won’t keep you,” their visitor said. “Aldric, I know I came early. I admit I had suspected I would find a very different circumstance than the one presented to me. She truly is yours, then?”

“Very much,” Aldric agreed, and Sarah’s skin prickled as gloved fingertips smoothed down her arm. “Whatever the circumstances, I am glad that you’re here. Tonight we’ll have a small dinner with the other guests, but tomorrow we’ll start the real business of what we came here to do.”

Finnick’s voice firmed a bit. “Yes. There is still that matter to attend to. Until then.”

Sarah heard the sound of chairs scraping back, and the next thing she knew, Aldric was helping her out of her seat, hand at her elbow. Finnick left, a door clicking shut behind him, and Sarah whirled on Aldric. “What’s the meaning of talking about me like I’m not even there? Like I’m some kind of possession?” She hissed. “I’m not some prize pig at the fair!”

“Angry, pet?”

She wanted to stamp her foot. “I never agreed to be your queen. I never agreed to be your _anything_.”

Aldric grasped her around the waist, the grip hard against the boning of her corset, and tugged her against his front. She gasped and attempted to wrench away, but he held her tight. “Do you know how many fae noblewomen would give their left eye to be thought of in such a way by me? Do you not see, Sarah? I am offering you everything you could ever want.” His breath was warm on her face and smelled of cinnamon and coffee. She lifted her fists against his chest and pushed, but he did not budge. “I am telling you that I love you.”

She was stunned, shocked into a stillness that he broke with his mouth against hers. Hers was already open, and he slipped his tongue in, tasting her with a contented sound in the back of his throat.

Something in her seemed to slip, then crack, and she was kissing him back, swallowing down the burning heat of him. It pooled deep inside of her, filling her with liquid warmth. His hands at her waist moved in opposite directions, one lowering to grasp her hip and pull her closer, and the other rising to cup her face, the motion tender. She whimpered and gasped again as he pushed her against the wall, his body pressing against hers. Possessive and caging, for a moment, she allowed it, grinding her hips toward him and making small sounds of pleasure.

Aldric broke the kiss to trail heated kisses down her bare throat, and he was grasping her ass, gripping her hard against his growing erection. She could feel it even through the thick fabric of her dress. She shuddered to feel it, to imagine—

_No._

She pulled back as far as she could, yanking herself out of his touch. “Stop,” she said, her voice breathier than she wanted. “Aldric—”

He silenced her with another kiss, lips crashing against hers and teeth coming down on her bottom lip before his tongue swept in and soothed the throbbing flesh he left behind.

She could feel his magic like a flickering flame she held her hand out to. It lapped at her, and she responded to it, gripping him tighter for a moment until sense rushed in yet again like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. “Stop,” she breathed, pulling herself away, the back of her head thumping against the wood paneling. “Stop!”

Aldric froze, then began to chuckle, his face buried against the side of her neck. “You desire me,” he said at last. “Deny it all you want, pet, but you respond to my touch.” His lips feathered along her skin, and she shivered. He drew in a breath, as though he were scenting her, and his body settled heavier against hers. She tried to draw back again, to pull away, but she was trapped by the wall and his arms on either side of her. “I can taste your power,” he whispered, nuzzling still at her hair and neck. “It would not be coming out to play unless you wanted me.”

“That’s just a reaction,” she huffed, attempting to push him away again. He would not budge. “Get off me.”

He laughed again, but then the pressing heat of him lifted, and cool air rushed in to fill the space he had just occupied. Sarah stayed still where she was, not daring to move, not knowing where he was. She had no idea where her white stick had gotten to, and she couldn’t exactly storm out when she could not even see to make her way back to her rooms. _This is so unfair_ , she thought.

“You don’t love me,” she said, her voice steady despite her frantic heartbeat. “You want to possess me. There’s a difference.”

“Maybe,” he said, sounding agreeable as always. “Does it matter?”

“Yes!” Her hands clenched into fists at her side. “It’s not like I’m some painting you can put on your wall or a statue for your garden. I’m not a tool to be used. I am not my power.” She lifted her chin, wishing with a fervor that she had her eyes back.

Gloved fingers brushed along the line of her jaw. “You are no simple thing. You are the greatest of treasures—a Champion of the Labyrinth. Fae-touched. There has never been one such as you before, and there may never be again. I do not see you like some picture to gaze at, though your beauty certainly captivates me.” Fingers threaded through her hair, and she suppressed the urge to react, staying stock still instead. “I disagree that one has to love without calculating the worth of the other party. You may not be your power, but your power is a part of you. What you can offer to me, and to Faerie, as the future Goblin Queen is an inherent part of your value.”

“And you just so happened to develop feelings for me?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” His thumb played along the shell of her ear, and gooseflesh rose at the touch. “I admit my initial inclination was simply to bed you and keep you, but now I see how much more you have to offer. I want you at my side. To advise, to strengthen, and to love. Is that so hard to believe?”

Sarah’s mouth had gone dry. “You’re just saying what you think I want to hear. You’re trying to manipulate me.”

“Am I?” His breath on her face again. “Is that what you want to hear, sweet Sarah? Declarations of love, from me?” Lips brushed lips, feather-light, and she gasped, inhaling the scent of him. He seemed to take this as an invitation, for just as suddenly his mouth was crushed against hers, swallowing her sound of protest.

Sarah’s head swam. _Damn it, I’m only human_. And being kissed by Aldric was a sensation unlike any she had truly experienced before. A thrill of the forbidden ran through the feeling, and a dark part of her wanted to succumb. Another aspect of her wondered if he would spare Jareth if she consented to be with him. Would Aldric turn his sights from the Labyrinth if she asked? She thought he might.

He kissed her like he would devour her, as though he could never get enough of the taste of her. And— _gods help me_ —she let him. For a moment, she let thoughts of Jareth slip from her mind, and she felt it when her magic unfurled, spilling through the connection between their bodies to let him drink it in. As it bloomed in him, she could feel his body. His heartbeat, the deep lungful of air he just breathed in, the rising heat in his blood. The power danced along his every vein and artery, and so did she. And as she did, she realized that with just the right kind of nudge, the power that played within him could just as easily turn sharp and deadly.

Aldric broke the kiss with a gasp, though one hand remained curled around the back of her neck, holding her in place. “That was—”

She placed her hand on his chest and shoved with all her might, and he stumbled back, hand falling away. “Never again,” she declared. “You will never force a kiss on me again.” She could still taste him, not just in her mouth but in her mind. She could not shake the sensation, nor the knowledge that she held a strange sort of power here. One she did not quite understand, perhaps, but one that she would leverage to her fullest advantage.

Something in the air shifted. An undercurrent that had the hair on the back of Sarah’s neck rising. Aldric’s voice was low and calm when he spoke. “Of course not,” he said. “I’ll wait for you to tell me to.”

“That’ll never happen.”

“We’ll see.”

Another silence, and this time she lifted her chin, determined not to break it.

Aldric chuckled. “You are stubborn. It’s part of why I like you.”

“Can you take me back to my room, please?” She was done with this conversation. With him.

“Certainly. Here.” The slender aluminum pole touched her hand, and she gripped it close, pulling it away from him. “But while Finnick and the others are here, I will escort you myself to your rooms.”

Sarah bit her lip but put out a hand. Aldric tucked it into his arm, and a moment later, he was leading her through the dining room and out into the hall.

“I forgot to tell you how lovely you look in that dress,” Aldric purred as they walked. “Did Maisy pick it out?”

“No. Gretchen gave me the choice of the green or the blue.”

“Mm, good. The green will bring out your eyes when we unwrap them tomorrow.” He squeezed her hand. “Your rooms, my love.”

She bit back the retort she wanted to spit out at him. She heard the door open and used her white stick to tap her way into the sitting room. She turned her head back, sensing that Aldric was still standing near. “Can I get a little privacy?”

“Of course. There will be a dinner tonight. More guests will have arrived by then. Shall I send one of the brownies to attend to you now?”

“No, thank you.” She turned away from him, finding her way to a chair and sinking down onto it.

“I’ll leave you until this evening, then. Call out if you require anything. Someone will hear.”

Sarah did not respond, and a moment later, she heard the door click closed.

Her bandages itched, and her lips still seemed to throb in time to her heartbeat. She traced them, and where she touched, tingles rose.

A part of her wanted nothing more than to touch the tattoo on her shoulder and speak to Jareth. To tell him everything that had happened, but—

_But I let Aldric kiss me. Again._ Several times.

Shame burned through her, and she scowled to the empty space. Nothing had prepared her for this. First, a global pandemic forced her childhood nemesis into her life, which had caused her to face up to her growing feelings, and then his brother declared a war against him, which she had found herself inexorably caught up in.

_This is too much,_ she thought, and she could feel the burn of tears even beneath her bandages. She had invited the strange and the paranormal into her life when she was fifteen _on accident_ , not knowing the words she spoke would summon a host of goblins and their beguiling king. Not knowing that simple phrase would turn her life upside-down.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered to the empty room, though she swore she could hear laughter in response. The laughter of Aldric and Jareth. They would not let her go, she realized with bone-deep certainty.

Not anymore. She wasn’t sure if she would even let them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> Thank you for your enduring patience. I promise I am not nor will I ever abandon this story. It’s already plotted, it just needs to be written.
> 
> I took December off writing (which meant I still wrote, just not ‘projects’), which ended up being one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I hit January feeling refreshed and ready to go.
> 
> I wanted to let you all know as well that I just finished and uploaded a sequel to my short story I Dare You. It’s called Two Truths and a Lie and I’m actually wickedly proud of it and would love to know what you think. You don’t necessarily have to read the first before reading the second, though I do recommend it. A dark/morally ambiguous Jareth abounds in those stories, however, just so that you’re aware.
> 
> Speaking of Jareth, I’m sorry we didn’t see much of him in this chapter but I’ll be sure to make up for that lack in the future.
> 
> I hope all of you are having a good New Year. I love you. Stay safe out there.
> 
> Xoxo,  
> CrimsonSympathy


End file.
